Desert Mountain, Scottsdale, AZ • The Tradition
Is there a more revered name in sports than Arnold Palmer? This was back when The Tradition was at Desert Mountain Golf Club in Scottsdale — seven Nicklaus tracks, all lightning-fast greens: Renegade, Cochise, Geronimo, Apache, Chiricahua, Outlaw, and No. 7 at Desert Mountain. I’d convinced the resort owner I worked for to sponsor a booth, and as payback I was the one working it. They parked the booth just outside the men’s locker room.
I got there at O-dark-thirty to set up. The sun was just creeping over Pinnacle Peak. Nobody around. Then I hear it — the clickety-clack of spikes on concrete coming up the walk to the practice green. I think, “Early bird getting some work in.” The footsteps stop at my booth. I turn around and — holy crap — it’s Arnold Palmer.
He’s leafing through one of my brochures. “Stayed there once — nice place,” he says. I’m too stunned to speak. Then he asks if I’m a golfer. I manage a nod. He asks me to walk with him to the practice green.
When Arnold Palmer asks, you don’t hesitate. We get to the putting surface and he says, “Mind checking my alignment while I hit a couple?” I look at him — you want me to check your alignment? He’s clearly having a little fun with me. I line up behind him and tell him he’s good.
He rolls one… and it drifts off low — the amateur side. He straightens up, gives me a wink, and says:
“Do me a favor — head back to work and don’t quit your day job.”
Classic Arnie. A little mischief, total class. I’ll never forget the morning I met the King.
