Arnold Palmer, legend, turns 80 on Thursday.
So what exactly do you give the man who single-handedly transformed golf into a spectator sport, made presidents want to be his friend, caused perfectly normal adults to swoon with hero worship, mixed lemonade and iced tea to create a refreshing concoction that would become an "Arnold Palmer," and hawked everything from motor oil to rental cars like no one before or since?
A party like he shot 59.
A lifetime in the making, admiration for Palmer's iconic feats continued on display Tuesday night when the son of a Latrobe, Pa., greens keeper was at PNC Park to throw out the first pitch before the Pittsburgh Pirates hosted the Chicago Cubs.
Before that he spent last week in Orlando, Fla., home of his beloved Bay Hill Club and Lodge, making a formal appearance at the Arnold Palmer Medical Center, which, on Thursday, just happens to be having a little celebration of its own -- a 20th anniversary thanks to its famous namesake.
Sandwiched in between have been golf outings with old friends and associates, playing Bay Hill and Latrobe Country Club during the day, and parties and reminiscing at night.
"I think he's a bit embarrassed by all the fuss to be honest,'' said Doc Giffin, Palmer's right-hand man for the past 43 years. "But he's enjoying it because of all the cards, letter and calls from old friends."
So many friends.
"People ask me about him and his charisma," said Gary Koch, the former PGA Tour player and current NBC golf analyst who counts a victory at Bay Hill among the highlights of his competitive career.
"He was the kind of guy who when he went to the first hole there would be grandstands there and maybe 500 people surrounding the tee box. They'd introduce him and he'd look up in the grandstands and wave. And every single one of those 500 people would go home and say, 'He looked right at me.' Just a unique ability to transfer warmth and genuineness to spectators.
"And then, of course, his style of play. That appealed to people as well."
The combination made for a presence which golf -- arguably, any sport -- hasn't seen since.While other athletes endured signing autographs, Palmer relished the chance to be among the people. Mix in a go-for-broke playing style, at a time when television was first starting to broadcast golf to the masses, and Palmer became a hero for the everyman.
A hitch of his pants, a wicked slash and away he would go. Golf had belonged to Hogan, Nelson and Snead. It was played under control and with hardly a facial twitch. Then along came Palmer, forearms by Popeye with rolled-up short sleeves, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and eyes burning. His rubbery face hid no secrets, contorting in direct response to every success or mistake.
He won the 1958 Masters and in 1960 claimed the Masters and U.S. Open. He went on to record seven majors and 62 PGA Tour wins. His walk was fast, his swing faster. He would hit a shot into the woods on the left side, the next into a ditch on the right, and then bounce the next one into the cup. Palmer didn't care how birdies happened, just as long as they did.
Arnie's full-speed-ahead assault won tournaments and it lost just as many, but fans loved him for it. They always will.
No greater example of the enduring desire to simply cross paths with the larger-than-life man was on display eight years ago during a Champions Tour event in Tampa, Fla., as the then-72-year-old Palmer milked some of the last tournament golf out of his career. He had completed a second-round score of 80, leaving him in last place, 31 shots out of the lead, and was about to leave the scoring area when a spectator standing near the exit suffered a heart attack.
As emergency medical personnel cleared an area and began treatment, a veritable AARP chapter of fans responded with hostility, shouting indignities at the poor victim because resuscitation efforts to save his life were blocking any chance for getting close enough for Palmer's autograph.
"I'd been waiting here all day and now I can't get to him,'' grumbled a gray-haired man holding a program and a pen.
That was the appeal of Arnold Palmer. It still remains -- after all these years.
"Oh, everything, are you kidding me," Tiger Woods answered last month when asked what Palmer means to the game. "I mean, without his charisma, without his personality in conjunction with TV ... You finally had someone who had this charisma and they're capturing it on TV for the first time. Everybody got hooked to the game of golf via TV because of Arnold."
What was there not to like? Palmer made fans emotionally attached. He wanted so badly to knock every shot into the hole; all those around him wanted it, too.
The quintessential risk-reward moment of Palmer's career took place at the 1960 U.S. Open at Cherry Hills outside Denver. During each of the opening three rounds, Palmer had attempted to drive the green on the short par-4 opening hole. Each attempt had failed, resulting in scores of double bogey, bogey and par.
Unfazed, he began the final round again going for broke and this time making birdie. A streak of five more birdies over the next six hole followed and Palmer charged from seven shots back to victory, still the largest final-round comeback in U.S. Open history.
Everybody has a memory.
"The most telling thing I think about Arnold is when he was the captain of the '75 Ryder Cup,'' fellow Hall of Famer Hale Irwin remembered recently. "Arnold is competitive, which I love, but we had a team meeting, and Arnold said, 'OK, guys, I want you to get out there, and I don't want them to win a point.' He really and truly meant, he didn't want them to win a point.
"I kept looking for that little smirk and that little smile, and there was none. That indicated to me how Arnold Palmer made his career -- driving the first hole at Cherry Hills, all the drama, go for broke, hit the shot through the trees, all those things that Arnold has been so synonymous with for so many years. That right there showed me that this guy takes no prisoners. Get in the way and I'll run over you. I'll pick you up after it's said and done, but I'll run over you.
"I like that about Arnold because you always know where Arnold is coming from. There was never any pretense. He was the guy from Pennsylvania. His father had raised a straightforward young man, and obviously Arnold played straightforward.''
Party on.
