With his letter to Lehman he enclosed a book he had written, published and sells on his website, hiddenhandicaps.com. I Took the Easy Way Out is his story of self-determination after the accident. He argues that the struggle is the "easy way" because, in the end, it's redemptive. No hero in him, according to his book: "I am just a person living an extremely difficult life the best way I can."
From the stranger in the hardware store, Lehman learned about Day's life and work in Fargo. He figured it couldn't hurt to call him.
"Tom Day had been a great putter, and he hadn't asked for anything other than the chance to help me," Lehman says. "Besides, the circumstances of his life were so extraordinary. If he was that tough that he no longer felt sorry for himself, I figured he had to have something I could learn from."
‘If he was that tough that he no longer felt sorry for himself, I figured he had to have something I could learn from.’
He came away from early talks with a simple insight: The brain can't process two thoughts at a time. Lehman says, "I'd had all this stuff bombarding my mind, about break and speed and stroke. But after talking with Tom, I reduced it to one. My mantra became, 'Roll it into the middle of the hole.' "
There came a time when Day asked Tom Lehman to think of all the big putts that he had missed.
Like, at the Masters.
Maybe the U.S. Open.
The 19 times he had finished second on tour.
Tom, are you thinking of all those miseries?
"Then," Lehman says, "he shouted into the phone, 'STOP!' "
Nothing could be done about putts gone. Something could be done about putts to come. "I've started putting better," Lehman says, "and I do believe I'm going to be a fantastic putter."
Lehman and Day have met once, in December 2006, at a golf-awards dinner near Minneapolis. They have stayed in touch by phone, e-mail -- and, happily, by television.
That happened during this year's FBR Open in Arizona. Day had been diagnosed with bladder cancer. Two hospitals refused to do surgery; they said a 71-year-old quadriplegic with limited breathing capability might not survive the operation. But down the road from Fargo, in Rochester, Minn., doctors at the Mayo Clinic disagreed. The last day in January, they did the surgery. It went well.
The next afternoon, Day's son, Mike, asked if his father wanted to watch the Golf Channel.
The first shot they saw was Tom Lehman's on a par 3.
It came to rest two inches from the hole.
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