Birthday Greetings For Arnie

I graduated from college in spring 1967, and on Christmas Eve that year four friends came to my parents' house, where I was still living, to drink some beer and catch up. We got to talking about who we had wished Merry Christmas, and someone asked if I had done so to Arnold, who was (and still is) my idol. I said, "No, but I will right now," at which point I phoned AT&T information in Latrobe, Pa.

I asked for a listing for an A.D. [Arnold Daniel] Palmer. I heard, "I have no listing for A.D. Palmer, but I have an Arnold Palmer."

I dialed the numbers and heard, "Hello?"

"Is Arnold there?"

"It's Arnold speaking."

I immediately dispatched one of my friends to an extension phone, as I needed corroboration for this call. I said it was Peter Deeks from Toronto, Canada, calling, and I added, "I hope I'm not bothering you."

He said, "No, I'm putting presents under the tree for Winnie, Amy and Peggy."

We talked about many subjects, but the best was me telling Arnold how to resolve issues in the PGA between the club professionals and the touring pros. The conversation carried on for 12 minutes, according to the bill I received from Bell Canada. The bill also showed the commencement time of the call at 1:06 a.m. Christmas Day.

In December 1989, my brother Jim and family came to our house for Christmas dinner. He gave me two presents and said, "Open the small one first." I did so, and it was a video to be watched "immediately." On comes Arnie saying, "Hi, I'd like to wish Peter, Wendy and Sarah and Jocelyn Deeks a very Merry Christmas. ... Peter, do me a favor and call me again, but don't make it on Christmas Eve, OK?"

I was stunned. Then I was to open the large present, and it was a cue card with the above message and signed, "Arnold Palmer."

Jim, a TV director, had been assigned to do a TV promo in June 1989 for the Cadillac Skins Game being played in Toronto. He'd prepared the cue card in advance, and Arnold readily agreed to do it when the serious work was completed.

The cue card has been framed and adorns a wall of our family room.

My favorite Arnold Palmer memory didn't even take place on a golf course.

I had been invited for cocktails at the home of Charlie and Marilyn Mechem [Charlie Mechem is a former commissioner of the LPGA Tour], Arnold's next-door neighbors in La Quinta. Arnold insisted that he and I walk next door and check out a new shipment in his garage.

He had recently received word that his shirt manufacturer would no longer be making his signature hard-collar shirts, but he had been sent a lifetime supply in every color. The boxes were stacked to the ceiling, and he was just so darn proud! He didn't believe anyone would do something that thoughtful for him.

That's just Arnold.

While in the U.S. Army in West Berlin, I was lucky enough to play in the German Open and meet Arnie at a dinner for him, Seve Ballesteros and Tony Jacklin.

What I remember most, however, was after the last 18 holes, when Arnie was surrounded by fans seeking autographs. A member of his entourage came in to say that his private plane was ready to take off and they had to go. Arnie did not bat an eye but said, "Have the plane wait; these are the people who pay for that plane."

As Arnie's friend, I have had the pleasure of observing and interacting with him in various settings. Of course, nothing beats spending time with him on the golf course. During one particularly enjoyable round, I partnered with Jim Nantz to take on Arnie and my brother Tom. We had a blast, and our best-ball match went back and forth until we came to Laurel Valley's signature 18th hole, a spectacular -- and reachable -- par 5.

After lacing their drives, Jim and Arnie found the green in two. Tom and I are serving as spectators at this point, and we watched Jim roll his approach putt toward the hole. Unfortunately, Jim didn't leave himself a gimme.

Already up a hole, Arnie looked to end the match, but his eagle putt stopped at the lip of the cup. That left Jim, who was getting a stroke on the hole, staring at a yips-inducing five-footer to bring us even.

Seizing the moment -- and turning the tables on Jim, who has captivated so many of us with his distinctive broadcasts -- Arnie lifted the grip of his putter to his chin, as if it were a microphone. Then, in a perfect golf-announcer parody, he described the situation.

"Jim Nantz is about to stroke the most important putt of his life," Arnie started. Jim had to back away as we all broke out in laughter. "It's a treacherous five-footer," the King continued, "and he'll need to play a subtle right-to-left break."

Composing himself, Jim stroked the putt -- and it slipped by on the right. He grimaced and looked at Arnie: "You misread that!"

"Hey," Arnie responded. "I was being the broadcaster, not your caddie." As with most rounds, we finished with a laugh -- and by paying Arnie his winnings.

I was fortunate to be paired with Mr. Palmer at the 1994 U.S. Open at Oakmont, which was his last U.S. Open.

Friday afternoon, we were walking up the 18th fairway toward the green. I was about 50 yards or so behind him, just taking it all in: huge galleries as far as you could see and applause as loud as it could possibly be, just to acknowledge and admire the man they all loved and had cheered for so long. It didn't matter what he shot; it mattered to them that he was there, and they appreciated it.

When I putted out on 18 I went to him, shook his hand and said, "You made all this possible for golf -- this is all because of you." At that we both were overcome with emotion.