Dialogue: Arnold Palmer

By Bob Verdi January 2000

At age 70, Arnold Palmer can't wait until tomorrow, and it shows. One of the most important athletes of the 20th century, he may be the most visible and credible person in professional sports. And despite Palmer's occasional protestations, his adoring public would clearly prefer to see him play mediocre golf instead of no golf. Go to any tournament, and you'll see: Arnie's Army lives.

Palmer is in constant demand, yet even when he's on the road, his soul is at home in Latrobe, Pa., with wife, Winnie, who has been battling cancer. But Arnold is unfailingly gracious, if not somewhat reluctant to dwell on himself after all these decades. Palmer can laugh at his icon status, but the inflection in his voice turned serious when he discussed, with Senior Writer Bob Verdi, golf's golden image and how it could be tarnished if those responsible for its growth aren't careful. That's the overriding message we gleaned from three sessions in his company. After all he has accomplished, Arnold Palmer still cares as much about golf as golf cares about him.

GOLF DIGEST: Even in this era of instant gratification, you and your background still impact all generations. Why?
Arnold Palmer: I know I like to think young. Maybe that has something to do with it. I'm not much for sitting around and thinking about the past or talking about the past. What does that accomplish? If I can give young people something to think about, like the future, that's a better use of my time.

What concessions, if any, have you made to being 70?
Obviously I'm not playing as much golf. At least as much competitively. I probably have a club in my hands 360 days a year, one way or another, playing with friends or just fiddling around or hitting balls. But my schedule speaks for itself. I didn't play that often on the senior tour last year.

You still love the act of hitting a golf ball?
Always. It's always a challenge, particularly as you get older. Golf challenges you mentally at any age, and when you become my age, it's a challenge physically to try to make your game work as well as it ever did. That's close to impossible, but that doesn't keep you from trying to hit the ball where you used to hit it and make the putts you used to make all the time.

As a senior, what skill goes first?
Distance. When you lose the ability to step up and hit the ball as hard and as far as you want, that also affects your ability to will the ball to go where you want it to go, if you know what I mean. The process has occurred over a period of years. It didn't just happen, and I guess that's one reason you keep trying to regain that knack of hitting a long drive on a par 5 so you can reach the green in two. That affects your entire game, and your confidence.

After all you've done, you experience crises of confidence?
Of course. But I also see some progress with my putter and my irons. That's where I really fell off from where I used to be. I still have those times when I hit a 2-iron just right and it lands near the pin real soft, and I think to myself, "Oh, man, it's back!" I can do that pretty well on the practice range.

You're starting to sound like a lot of us now. If only you could take that game from the practice range to the course.
That's what's so fascinating about golf. And I'm still winning most of the skins in the games I play at Latrobe in the summer or Bay Hill in the winter. Pretty much the same group of friends. If I can take a skin off a 33-year-old guy who hits it for miles, you bet I enjoy that.

Since you've turned 70, do you feel any different?
Sometimes, but most of the time, no. You can't help but contemplate that you're there. On the other hand, if you read the obituaries every day, you see that a lot of people haven't made it. Every day I play golf, that's my goal. To break 70 the other way. To shoot 70 or better.

When you see Gene Sarazen dying at 97, do you imagine yourself being as active as he was right until the end?
Without question, that would be a blessing. Gene was a great guy who had a wonderful life, and he enjoyed it thoroughly until he died.

You're a long way from it, but could you see yourself as a ceremonial golfer, teeing off with the first group at the Masters every April, as Sarazen did for several years?
That's something I really haven't had to come to grips with yet, but I haven't ruled out the possibility. As long as Augusta has the policy it has now for past champions coming back every year, and as long as I feel I'm not a nuisance there, I'll play. When I think I've become a nuisance, I won't play there anymore. I would go to the Masters; I just wouldn't play.