My Shot: Jim Thorpe

At New Orleans one year in the 1970s, I was on the range taking a break between bags of balls. I was watching Tom Weiskopf, Lee Trevino and some other top players hitting balls and listening to them talk it up between shots. They were laughing and having a great time. Just then Jack Nicklaus walked onto the range with his caddie, Angelo [Argea]. Trevino calls out, "Jack, nice to see ya! Come over here and hit a few with us." Jack gave them all that little smirk of his and said, "Actually, Lee, I'm here to win this week." He kept walking to the other end of the practice tee and started practicing by himself. Man, those guys got real quiet. They all started paying attention to what they were doing. If ever there was a moment that proved who the best player was — and why — that was it.

A brand-new golf ball has always been a wonderful thing to me. Still is. I love just taking them out of the package. We hunted for balls when I was a kid, and finding one that was almost new was a big thing. Even into my 20s, new balls were sometimes hard to come by. It never left me, and today the biggest proof that I'm wealthy lies in the fact that I get all the new balls I want for free. When I pass them out to friends, I feel like a king. Guys my age are suckers for new balls; if you want to give somebody in their 50s a Christmas present they'll really appreciate, spring for a dozen.

The first hole at Alaqua Country Club in Longwood, Fla., is a dogleg-left par 5 with water down the left side. If you hit a big hook over the corner of the water you can reach the green easy with your second shot. In the pickup game I play in there, we all hit two balls off the first tee. And that first shot, I always hit a low one that starts out to the right and then runs around the corner. My partners say, "Big Jim, why don't you just bomb it over the corner on the fly? That's nothing for you." And I have to tell them, "I can't risk hitting that new ball into the water, man."

Not long after we moved to Florida, I found a church: Crossings Community Church, over in Lake Mary. When I met the pastor, Keith Wilkins, I was drawn to him and knew this was the church for me. I did a little to help the church financially, but then a successful guy on the board, Mike Lewis, suggested we try to do something really significant. I thought about it and prayed some and finally told the congregation I'd donate $250,000. I'd have to do it over a three-year period — I'm not that rich.

I hadn't done much to that point last year and wasn't playing very well, but two weeks later I went to Austin, and before I played I told God to let me have a good week so I could do something for my church. Standing on the first tee, it was like something happened to me inside, because I played like a man on fire. I was right there after two rounds, and Sunday morning I read in the paper that first place paid $247,500. That sent chills down my back.

The last round was just a formality. I shot 68, won the tournament and signed over the whole thing to Pastor Keith. Everything they needed — the baptismal pool, a van, new seats for the sanctuary that weren't rock hard — between Mike Lewis and me, we covered it. The following week, I won again. And this was like God saying, "See? You did the right thing." But I'll tell you, I wasn't off the course long before Carol got in touch with me. "Don't get crazy, now, baby," she said. "You've got kids and a wife to think about, too." So that one stayed with us.

I was in the clubhouse tied for the lead at the Long Island Classic in 2004. The TV cameras are on me while I'm waiting for Bobby Wadkins to finish the 18th hole. He's got a putt for par to stay tied with me, and before he hits it, the camera pans over to me. I give a thumbs-down sign. A few people didn't think that was good sportsmanship, but give me a break. You think I'm gonna sit there and say, "C'mon, Bobby, make the putt"? You think I'm gonna sit there and not think anything? You gotta be crazy. Of course I want him to miss. I like him, and he's a nice guy, but I want to win the tournament, man. It's my business.

If I had it to do over again, I'd cut the time I spent practicing my long game in half. I'd spend it around the practice green chipping and putting like I do now. Over and over again, I see tournaments decided by the guy who makes the crucial up-and-down at the end. The short game is where the money is, especially for you amateurs.

Vijay Singh came to the PGA Tour when I was finishing up. This was in 1993 and '94. We became close friends. You know, I never saw a guy work harder on his game than he did. But he didn't practice like he was in a hurry to get somewhere. He was just out there all day, every day, calmly working away like he knew it was going to pay off. Watching him, I remembered a passage from the Bible my mother used to repeat to us all the time: "But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first." It takes a while, but persistence always pays off.