Following the announcement of Arnold Palmer’s death yesterday, I’ve been watching social media light up with remembrances of “The King” of golf, and personal interactions with the man himself. I suppose that’s what we do when a legend passes away – we reminisce about the times we may have been lucky enough to have one degree of separation.
I attended the 2006 World Golf Hall of Fame induction ceremony, after which attendees were able to tour the Hall. As I walked through the entrance that evening, Mr. Palmer was standing there, having just finished a conversation with other event guests. I approached him and asked, “Are you the docent for the 9 pm personal tour?” He looked confused, and then immediately flashed that famous grin of his and walked me into the museum. (Of course I had to subsequently share him with the hundreds of other guests, and lost him in the sea of people.)
The next morning, I woke pretty early and walked out onto my balcony at the Renaissance hotel, some five or six stories up. I recall the sun was barely up. I looked to my right and on the same level about 6 rooms over, out on his balcony, was Arnold. We looked at each other, smiled and gave a little wave. The little boy in me thought, “Gee, I wonder if he remembered I was the guy last night who made him laugh…” That’s what happens when you brush up to greatness. You’d love to believe that you might have entered into their consciousness. With Arnold’s wave back to me, it made me think (or I like to think) that I did.
Maybe not the most politically correct photo for 2016, but it represents what I admired about Arnold Palmer: simultaneously looking debonair, Hollywood-like and blue-collar, journeyman.
And that’s the thing about Arnold. He made the people he encountered feel more special than they thought they ought to feel around him. As is being written this week, he bridged the gap between the exclusivity of the game and the egalitarianism of America. And that was just from his playing years; notwithstanding the prolific businessman he became in his retirement.
Much of American history and culture has been about aspiration. Upward mobility. Keeping up with the Joneses. But with Arnold Palmer, it was a different kind of aspiration. People wanted to be like him or around him, because of his everyman quality, not because of a sense of royalty (which makes his nickname all the more ironic). That the blue collar guy from Latrobe could make it, it’s like he made it for the rest of us. And because he maintained that humility, he was loved all the more.
I believe Mr. Palmer’s legacy will be how he stood at the intersection of aspiration and reality, always reminding us of golf’s greatest attraction: that anyone, from any background can pick up a club, walk up to the first tee…be in awe of the surroundings… and feel like he or she belongs here.
I hope you’ll share your stories and memories of The King, NGCOA’s 2002 Award of Merit recipient, here too.
#FromTheCEO