Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus

Golf has always prided itself on being a game of integrity. The self enforcement of the rules of the game, honesty, respect for your fellow competitors, courtesy, the simple doffing of the cap, all contribute to the mosaic of integrity. Then there is something called class. Like love, faith or trust, it is one of life’s truths that you cannot touch or feel but you can sense. Even in the august group at the highest levels of competitive golf deemed to have “class” by others in the world of golf, there are a rare few that stand out.

A few years back, a senior tour was started for those golfers, 50 years of age and older, who wished to compete. It was made up of a mix of former stand-out tour players, near stand-outs and journeymen. Some of the greats continued to excel. Some were lucky enough to have good physical genes and actually improved as they aged. Many, who were middle-of-the-pack on the regular tour, became leaders on the senior tour. But most all of them, through experience and the wisdom that comes with years, exemplified all that was good about the game.

A while back one of the more prestigious stops on the senior tour was in Scottsdale, Arizona. A desirable location, climate, golf course and gracious hosts attracted most of the top senior players at the time, including Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus, the best of the best.

Like any tour tournament there are large numbers of volunteers needed to stage the event. My son was one of those volunteers. For the week of the tournament, his job was to man the gate where the competitors would enter the club house grounds. He would open the gate, greet them, give them directions if needed, and then close the gate after they passed through. He was there from before day light until after dark for practice rounds, the pro-am and the tournament. Because of the tournaments popularity it was one of the largest fields on the tour. All morning long he would open the gate as they arrived and do the same in the evening as they left. On Sunday afternoon, at the conclusion of the tournament, the players began departing. One by one they left. My son opened the gate and waved as they drove by. Of the seventy some players who departed that afternoon, two players stopped, Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus. Each got out of their car, walked around to my son, shook his hand and thanked him for helping out during the tournament. That gesture, by two of the greatest men to ever play the game of golf, is class.