A Man in Full

Everyone loves Nick Price.

Fans, business associates, tournament directors, shy youngsters afraid to ask for their first autograph, fellow tour pros. And mostly, of course, his devoted wife, Sue, and their three children, whom Price values above all else in his life — including even a major championship. (Because Price wanted to extend a family vacation for an extra week, he opted out of this year's PGA Championship.)

In a large way, Price at 46 is a man who very nearly has it all: three major championships, 41 professional victories on five continents, enough money so that there is no longer any compulsion to sign a head-to-toe equipment-endorsement deal, a luxurious but homey Gulfstream III jet to facilitate the commute to Dallas, South Africa and points beyond (plus a helicopter to accommodate the home games when the tour is in South Florida). And he has a golf swing that still displays the brilliance that made him the best player in the world from 1992-'94.

With a Hall of Fame induction Oct. 20, even life itself seems to love Nick Price. But for all the public adoration and peer respect, just about no one feels his pain. The pain of majors lost that could have been — maybe should have been — won. The pain of the little caddie with the big heart who was lost too soon. The pain of the country of his youth lost beyond all recognition by the destructive hand of a ruthless dictator.

In a quarter-century as a pro, Price has seen all sides of the game — and perhaps even more importantly, all sides of life. He has been the best player in the world and he has been down to his last dollars. He has traveled on his own jet on his way to a million-dollar payday and he has flown on military missions in the midst of a bloody civil war. He has been blessed with a good wife and healthy children but also seen both his father and right-hand man cut down well short of a life lived full. Price sat down to talk on three separate occasions, reflecting on his career, the game and a life inside and out of golf that has been nothing short of complete.

Golf Digest: Did you ever imagine a Hall of Fame career when you were in your back yard in Rhodesia playing made-up games of golf?

Nick Price: Never. In fact, my mom chased us off the yard for playing golf. The ground is a red clay, like in Texas, and the problem was, we were taking these big divots right after it rained, and the walls of these beautiful houses were getting splattered with big, red welts from the divots.

After your success of the early '90s, was the Hall of Fame something that you let yourself think about? I thought about it a lot when Greg [Norman] got in, Payne Stewart, Bernhard Langer and Tony Jacklin, because all these guys had similar careers to mine. Payne and I had very similar careers — three major championships; he'd won internationally. When Bernhard Langer got in, he'd won two majors. Greg had won two majors. Tony Jacklin had won two majors. I started thinking, Maybe I've got a chance here.

Did you feel left out for a while?
A little bit, particularly when Bernhard and Jacklin got in last year. I felt like that was about the time for me. Payne, I can understand. I'd never, ever have a problem with them putting Payne ahead of me. But you can't take someone who is flamboyant and whatever and put them in ahead of someone who's achieved more, you know what I'm saying? It's like, what's important in golf: Is it a record, or is it what the perception is? A classic example is John Daly. John's won fewer than 10 tournaments worldwide in his entire career. People would think he's a true superstar in the game. Well, his record doesn't say that.

Beyond your golf, you're known for being a nice guy. What helped you develop that reputation?
Honesty — having empathy for other guys.

In what way, empathy?
On the golf course, on the practice tee, where a guy's struggling. If you see him doing something, maybe you can help him a little. You have to go through all those struggles to understand it.

I think it's really hard for a guy like Tiger or Mickelson or any of those great players to relate to some guy who's just got his card and can't make a cut. There are lots of guys out here, sort of my generation, who will help each other.

Does that not happen as much today?
I think it happens in small little cliques.

You helped Hal Sutton this year.
He's a close friend. I'd seen him practicing for four or five weeks, and it just didn't look very good at all. On the practice tee at Hilton Head, I walked past him and said, "Can I tell you something? Would you mind?" He said, "Please, be my guest."

I said, "This is what it looks like to me." And the penny dropped. He hit a couple of balls and said, "Well, it feels kind of weird, but I've got a lot more power." That's what it takes sometimes when you've got a great player — you give him that seed and he can grow it into a tree. Now, if you went head to head with him in a tournament and he beat you by holing a 30-footer on the last hole, you'd feel like an idiot for giving him a lesson. But it's just awful to see someone struggle at this game, like Seve [Ballesteros] and [Ian] Baker-Finch. It gets to the stage where everyone is trying to help them. They're bombarded with information, so you just stay away.