Two life events — coincidentally both occurring on the same day last week — prompted me to take a stroll down memory lane.
On Wednesday, Jan. 21, Jack Nicklaus celebrated his 75th birthday amid much attention. On that same day, my father-in-law, Keith Bunker, passed away in St. George, Utah.
Given that Keith was born in the same year as Arnold Palmer (1929), died on the same day Nicklaus turned 75, and had the last name of Bunker, perhaps it was inevitable that he was a huge golf fan. And so it was.
He and his wife, Donna, not only played many a round of golf over the years, but Keith marshaled at the Bob Hope Classic (now the Humana Challenge) on several occasions as they once lived near Indian Wells Country Club, one of the courses that’s been regularly used for the PGA Tour event. Keith proudly displayed numerous autographs of golf greats, including Palmer’s impeccable signature. (The two are pictured together at left.)
With Keith passing and Nicklaus hitting a milestone birthday, I had the urge to find a Ziploc bag that was stuck in a file in my closet nearly 34 years ago. That’s where I keep the mementos from one of my favorite days of my pre-adult years.
That plastic bag includes a fading photo from the Denver Post (top), a white Golden Bear golf glove, and a scorecard from Pinehurst Country Club in Denver (complete with a couple of autographs, below).
It all comes from a caddying gig I had on Aug. 24, 1981. On Nicklaus’ path to turning 75 last week, I was fortunate enough to spend five or six hours with him that day in 1981. The Golden Bear, one of my favorite sports figures as a teenager, came to Denver and Pinehurst to play a charity exhibition with Tom Watson and Dow Finsterwald. In case you’re wondering, that trio now has won a combined 27 major championships.
My good fortune in being picked to caddie for Nicklaus was due to Tony Novitsky, then the head professional at Columbine Country Club and now a well-deserved member of the Colorado Golf Hall of Fame. I was the caddiemaster — and previously a caddie and a bag-room attendant — at Columbine under Novitsky, and he was nice enough to make my decade by one day asking me, rather nonchalantly, “Gary, how would you like to caddie for Nicklaus in that charity event coming up?”
I couldn’t spit out “That’d be great” fast enough, and I’m sure I had a silly grin on my face the rest of the day.
As it turned out, the caddie that was looping for Watson would ask me to switch bags for the exhibition, but being a huge fan of Nicklaus, I had no interest. Nothing against Watson — it would have been a great loop under any other circumstances — but I wasn’t going to miss the chance to caddie for arguably the greatest golfer of all time.
Having Nicklaus, Watson and Finsterwald play an exhibition in Colorado was a big deal back then, long before the state hosted a PGA Tour event — The International — on an annual basis. How big a deal?
Watson was driven to the event in a 1940s-era Rolls Royce, while Nicklaus came in a late-model limo. Just prior to the first tee shots, the scorecards were delivered by skydivers. About 7,000 people attended the exhibition, with some reportedly paying more than $1,000 to rub elbows with the Tour greats and get pictures taken with them.
A few things I’ll never forget from that day, good and bad:
— Getting introduced to the players in the locker room, and being a fly on the wall as Nicklaus and Watson exchanged fishing stories and swapping information about hot spots they’d frequented.
— On the practice range, Watson doing imitations of several fellow Tour standouts, including Nicklaus — complete with the long pause at address and the cock of the head just before takeaway.
— The crowd was so congested around Nicklaus at times that at one point I got caught up amid all the fans and ended up walking 50 yards past Nicklaus’ ball. Suffice it to say it was a long trek back to the ball, seeing him waiting somewhat impatiently for me to backtrack.
— One of the highlights was being recognized by some of the people in attendance. One friend came up to me between the first and second holes and said, “Not a bad loop today, huh Baines?”
— Nicklaus was gracious enough to ask me what club to hit on numerous occasions. But I didn’t always give him the best guidance. On one par-5, after hitting a perfect drive and facing a blind second shot, the Bear asked for an aiming point. I urged him to hit his ball toward Loretto Heights College in the distance.
On cue, he ripped a 3-wood about 250 yards exactly where I had directed him.
“I hope you’re right,” he said as he handed the club back to me.
“I hope so too,” I replied.
Unfortunately, as we approached the green, it became apparent the ball ended up in a greenside bunker front right of the putting surface. Nicklaus didn’t say anything to me, but joked about betting Watson $10,000 on his sand shot. Fortunately, Nicklaus saved my bacon by getting up and down for birdie — one of few he made en route to shooting an even-par 70.
— I’ve often said I certainly would have caddied for Nicklaus for nothing that day, but what happened at the end of the round took me aback — and remains puzzling to this day. Nicklaus came into the locker room after the other two caddies had left and he pulled out his billfold. I remember never having personally seen so much cash carried by one person; there were $50s and $20s galore.
Nicklaus then proceeded to pull out two $20s and ask me if I had $10 in change. A bit stunned, I said that I did, and handed him the bill. Apparently knowing an explanation seemed necessary, he noted that $30 was the amount the other players had paid their caddies.
I fully admit, the exchange left me a little deflated on an otherwise great day. It wasn’t the amount I was paid that bothered me so much, but I can honestly say that I’d rather have been left empty-handed than have been asked for change.
But that was a mere footnote to one of the best days of my life as a then-19-year-old. I soon became a sports writer and covered Nicklaus at quite a few tour events, including his win at the 1993 U.S. Senior Open at Cherry Hills Country Club — the last of his eight USGA championships. Through those experiences and others, I’ve come to respect Nicklaus in many ways other than strictly his considerable golf ability. His graciousness in dealing with the fans and the media, his strong sense of sportsmanship, being an outstanding family man — the list goes on and on.
But as a teenager, simply being able to spend half a day with one of my favorite sports figures ever was the experience of a lifetime. And as Nicklaus approaches his twilight years, I cherish it all the more.
I still get a big smile when I look at that Denver Post photo with Nicklaus signing autographs during the exhibition and me walking alongside with his bag and umbrella. And it still brings back memories seeing that old wrinkled white Golden Bear glove (left), and the Pinehurst Country Club scorecard with the side-by-side autographs of Nicklaus and Watson.
I’m sure it was the same way for my father-in-law Keith when he gazed at that Arnold Palmer autograph or thought back fondly to marshaling at the Bob Hope Classic.
Time marches on, but golf gives us memories worth cherishing.
