The Harmons have moved into a new house in Henderson, primarily to gain a bigger yard and bigger pool for their two classically bred English Labrador retrievers, Rio and Hunter, large, intelligent, high-spirited animals. Butch talks to them as if they were his favorite students, tossing a weighted putter cover for them to chase. At one point, he even quizzes them to find out which perpetrator dug a hole in the range.
Christy says, "I've always loved dogs, but he'd never had a pet, and his affection for these guys surprised the heck out of him. Away from golf he has a real soft side. He cannot watch a war movie, and he becomes extremely emotional at the sight of a sick child. He told me he has a lot of skeletons from Vietnam, and he eventually opened up to me about some of that, but he doesn't want to discuss it with other people. I think he feels extremely fortunate to have survived it when so many others didn't."
Harmon leaves his clubs at home during family vacations. This summer the three will go to London a week before the British Open to see Parliament, Shakespeare's birthplace and, Christy says, "anything Harry Potter." The dogs will stay behind at an upscale kennel in California.
The dogs and Harmon go first-class these days. As the song goes, sometimes you're the bat and sometimes you're the ball, and he prefers being the bat (and coaching the swing). He's been down and he's worked hard to be up, and he's enjoying the improved lifestyle. He drives a sporty top-of-the-line Mercedes and favors Palm steakhouses, calling ahead to request that vintage wines be opened in advance to breathe.
"Being chosen No. 1 teacher in America again is a great honor because you're voted on by your peers," he says. "It means more to me now because I'm no longer with Tiger and it's about the work I'm doing with my other pros and the amateurs."
Beyond the schools, Harmon no longer gives individual lessons to new students at $600 an hour, but of course there's always a way. Dan Tzivanis is a club professional in Connecticut who approached Harmon at this year's PGA Merchandise Show with a ticket from Butch's lone PGA Tour victory, a one-day satellite event in 1971 that eventually grew into the B.C. Open.
"This guy was from that area in upstate New York," Harmon says, "and he showed me this ticket. I'd even signed it on the back. I told him if he could get to Vegas, I'd be happy to give him a lesson. He came, and I gave him a lesson. That ticket's in a glass block on my desk."
A Tip From ButchNumber Two: David Leadbetter
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