Norman Von Nida and this writer at a function in the early 1990’s.

It was July 2000 and, on the eve of what would be Tiger Woods’ first of three Open Championship victories, I was preparing to head to Brisbane for my then regular radio spot on the Radio TAB network.

18 months earlier I had made the decision to leave Graham Marsh’s golf course design company and head into the unknown world of golf media and one of the earliest gigs I secured was as golf betting analyst for the Radio TAB network’s morning sports show which had been established to cater for, and capitalise on, the growing sports betting market.

The role involved twice-weekly appearances (normally ten minutes and by phone) assessing likely chances in professional golf events along with wider golfing issues but if a major such as the Masters or Open Championship was being played I would venture to the Brisbane studio for a longer segment.

Just as I was to leave home on the Gold Coast for Brisbane on the Thursday morning of the Open Championship at St Andrews that year, the producer of the show, Graham Rigby, called to inform me that Australian golfing icon, Norman Von Nida, would be joining us by phone to discuss his thoughts on the event and relate some of his experiences at The Open.

I was delighted that such a figure would be included in our discussion and was quickly onto the net which was still in its infancy at that stage to research just how Norman had played at the Open Championship and how he had done at St Andrews. He actually finished 4th behind Sam Snead there on debut in the event in 1946.

I was a little concerned as I had never met Norman and I felt sure he would be unfamiliar with just who the hell I was. I had a perception of Norman as a feisty character and expected to receive a cold shoulder when introduced to him on air. How wrong I was to be.

When Rigby, who was hosting the show that morning in the absence of regular host, Mark Forbes, introduced Norman to our audience on the phone he also introduced me to Norman.

I expected a vague acknowledgement by Norman of my role but to my absolute shock he spoke in very favourable terms of what had been my role on Radio TAB to that point as he had been a regular listener.

Immediately on finishing our half hour segment I called Norman to thank him for his kind words which he reiterated and suggested we should get together for a game at Royal Queensland some time soon.

At that stage of his life (86) Norman was legally blind but thrived on regular games at Royal Queensland where, of course, some 75 years earlier he had developed his passion for the game by caddying for members at that same course.

We did play that game in August of 2000 and for the next seven years of his life Norman Von Nida and I became great friends. I look back now as being blessed to have gotten to know so well one of Australian golf’s greatest players and characters and perhaps its most significant trailblazer.

Until his death in May of 2007 at the age of 93, Norman and I attended numerous functions, golf events, luncheons or just coffee chats (not that he drank coffee) with he and his wife Elva. My then partner Marilyn and I enjoyed being able to accompany them as they sought to escape an increasingly routine lifestyle in an Aged Care facility on the Gold Coast.

Norman’s regular exposure to actually playing the game in his twilight years had been thwarted by an accident he experienced in 2001 while still living at Scarborough in Brisbane’s bay-side suburbs. It denied him the great pleasure he had of playing at Royal Queensland with his mates and anyone else who wanted to sound him out on his great knowledge of the game.

He had been crossing the road to post a cheque (he told me it was to his bookie) one day when a car struck him and broke his arm. At that stage of his life the injury would effectively prevent him from ever playing again other than the occasional few balls he would hit. (more on that later)

Norman in 1952 – Courtesy of Getty Images

So moved by what I was learning of this very special man and his achievements (three Australian Opens, four Australian PGA Championships and countless European titles), the latter during a period when he was blazing the trail for players such as Peter Thomson and others to follow, that I made the decision in 2003 to put together an audio tribute to him.

I collated, narrated, and essentially produced (with a little help from the aforementioned Graham Rigby) the 38-minute piece. I contacted many of those who were players of his era and those who had benefited from his willingness to help his fellow golfer and fellow man.

Included in the piece were contributions from Norman himself, Gary Player, Peter Thomson, Bruce Crampton, the fine Welsh player, Dave Thomas, and even figures from outside golf such as jockey great Scobie Breasley and legendary Australian boxer, Johnny Famechon.

They all spoke at various lengths on what Norman Von Nida had meant to them. The piece won an award and given my relative inexperience in the production of such things I was very proud that I had been able to capture and record such a significant piece of Australian history from such a wide ranging line-up of Australian sporting greats.

For those interested, the piece may be listened to by clicking on the audio bar below. I would encourage you to do so.

There were many outings enjoyed by Norman and I during those seven years, wherever we went, whether it was to the Carbine and Tattersalls Clubs in Brisbane, to the launch and playing of golf events on the Gold Coast or Ipswich, or to any golf-related function. Norman was always the centre of attention, and he loved the chance to have his say and to assist those who sought his help and advice.

As the time between his accident and his gathering years grew, however, Norman was becoming increasingly frustrated by not being able to play his beloved game.

One day in the winter of 2005, it came to a head, and he called to ask if I could find somewhere where no-one would know but where he could have a hit to see if there was any possibility of him playing again at any level.

I arranged to take him to Lakelands Golf Club on the Gold Coast one lazy Sunday mid-winter afternoon. We stood on the first tee, and his deteriorating eyesight would mean that I needed to guide him in the right direction.

He struggled down the first fairway, and it was clear he was embarrassed by the experience. I tried to make him aware of how long it had been since he had actually hit a ball and suggested things weren’t really as bad as he might have thought.

Norman was, however, a very proud man and like all of us golfers, we all want to play to the best level we can and know we are or have been capable of. Imagine, therefore, how it must have been for him, given the great heights he had reached in the game.

I convinced him to play another hole, but after his tee shot on that hole, he declared he had had enough and to my knowledge, that would be the last time he would attempt to play golf on a golf course.

That final tee shot in 2005.

‘‘I’d never contemplated being a good player again, but when I’ve been a reasonably good player, it was embarrassing to see an old geezer trying to do what I did,’’ he told a local newspaper at the time.

The drive back to he and Elva’s aged care facility was an awkward one. Clearly, he was feeling the impact of being resigned to bringing an end to his love affair with playing the game. Anything I was about to add was not going to make any difference to an incredibly poignant moment.

In May of 2007, Norman Von Nida passed away peacefully in his rest home on the Gold Coast. It was the end of one of the greatest stories in Australian golf, from a childhood caddie at Royal Queensland in the 1920’s to the illustrious career which saw him win nearly fifty professional titles.

I was extremely proud to be asked, by his daughter, Kerry, to speak at his funeral, attended by hundreds of Australian golfing dignitaries and others. My role was to finish proceedings, and I immediately thought of the last minute or so of the audio tribute I had created on him four years earlier.

In that segment (which I introduced on the day of his funeral) I had asked Norman what it was that had made him so keen to help others in his amazing life. His voice, speaking over the speakers in the church to close the celebration of his life, was a surreal moment.

His response (below) captures the essence of Norman Von Nida beautifully. He certainly backed his own judgement and was never afraid to voice it but, perhaps because of his upbringing, he knew that there were people out there he could help because of his success.

I feel blessed that his friendship and encouragement helped me also.

 

 

I pose (L) with the fabulous ‘Von Bronze tribute’ at Nudgee Golf Club in Brisbane, having hosted the unveiling several years earlier (R)

 

 

 

 

Grainy footage from the TV coverage shows Graham Marsh and I on the 72nd hole.

As 1990 drew to a close, so too did my involvement in the dual role as caddy / assistant to Graham Marsh, a role which had involved caddying on the Japan Golf Tour amongst other business-related activities.

As Graham’s golf course design company, Marsh Watson, began to grow and secure more work, a larger structure was required to service that work but such matters can be akin to the chicken and egg syndrome, namely, which comes first?

Marsh and his then business partner, Ross Watson, expanded the company’s team but it would then become important to secure on-going work to justify the increased workforce.

A consultant was engaged to restructure the company and I was offered to role as Sales Manager for Marsh Watson which would involve a move from Perth to the company’s head office in Robina on the Gold Coast.

While disappointed to be giving up the caddying side of the role and the time in Japan I had been involved in for the previous 20 months or so, the position that had been created was particularly attractive in terms of my own future prospects.

I left for the Gold Coast in early 1991, took up residence there and began my time sourcing work for the company by regularly traveling through Asia and the Pacific. I will go into greater detail on that role and my own view of the golf course design industry during those times in a later piece.

I caddied for Graham in a one-off event, The Four Tours Championship in Adelaide in late 1991, but that aside it would not be until 1994 when I would caddy again.

In late 1993 and just prior to turning 50, Graham, despite his significant success internationally, was required to go through the very difficult task of qualifying for the US Senior Tour and managed to secure one of the very few cards available for 1994.

I often chuckle when I hear golfers of all sorts of skill levels telling me that once they have reached the age of 50, they intend to play senior golf at a professional level. My experience has highlighted just how tough it was to even get a tour on which to play at that level and the exceptional standard of play required to survive once there.

Graham had, though, remained competitive on the Japan Golf Tour right through to the age of 50 and that would stand him in good stead for what lay ahead.

In his rookie season I expressed a desire to Graham that I would enjoy the chance to travel to the USA to take a few weeks off my role with his design company and caddy for him in a few selected events.

It was agreed and I left for Nashville in June of 1994 for events in Nashville, Dearborn (near Detroit) and finally the US Senior Open at Pinehurst in North Carolina.

The first event was at the Larry Nelson designed Gaylord Opryland Resort just outside of Nashville, Graham finishing 8^th behind Lee Trevino.

We then headed to Detroit and, more specifically, Dearborn just outside that city, the home of the Ford Headquarters where a Jack Nicklaus designed layout, the TPC Dearborn, would host the Ford Players Championship.

Graham finished 14^th that week behind the winner Dave Stockton and for me there was the thrill of being paired with Nicklaus himself in the final round. I recall it being in an era where caddies and players hardly exchanged pleasantries after a round, as is the case now, but Nicklaus made a point of doing so.

I had, admittedly, caddied in the same group as him previously and would again at Congressional Country Club near Washington DC the following year, but it further confirmed the high regard in which I held the then greatest player of all time.

From Dearborn we headed to Pinehurst in North Carolina, flying down to Raleigh and then driving the hour or so to the outstanding multi-golf course destination.

Graham and I leaving Raleigh for Pinehurst.

I had caddied at Pinehurst # 2 in 1979 in the then Colgate World Hall of Fame Classic, named because the Hall of Fame stood at the end of the 4^th hole there. It has been more recently relocated to St Augustine in Florida and is now owned by the PGA of America.

My earlier visit, however, had been at a time in my life when my appreciation of golf course design was perhaps not at the level it was when arriving there in 1994.

On arrival and checking into the delightful Carolina Hotel nearby the golf courses, Graham indicated he would take the afternoon off and we would meet for dinner later. I said I would head out onto the golf course to refresh my knowledge of the layout and do the yardages for the front nine and complete the balance early the next morning.

The Carolina Hotel – more salubrious than some of my previous caddie digs

Once on the golf course, however, I simply fell in love with what I was seeing. This was the same layout later used for the 1999 and 2005 US Opens and was before the major alterations by Ben Crenshaw and Bill Coore in 2010.

I found a pay phone on the golf course (it was before the prevalence of mobiles) and called Graham to tell him that I might be a little late for dinner. So taken was I with the golfing environment and the golf course itself that I decided to stay on and do all 18 holes before heading back.

To use a term I often use when describing a golf course that moves me, it smelt of golf as indeed does the village of Pinehurst itself which thrives on golf tourism. While very different in their heritage there are similarities between what Pinehurst means to American golf and what St Andrews means to golf elsewhere.

I immediately had a great feel for the place and really felt it was the sort of golf course on which Graham could do well and so it would prove.

It was a week interrupted by the summer afternoon storms so prevalent in that particular region part of the US and on three occasions the field was required to return to the golf course in the morning to complete a round from the previous day.

By Sunday morning, after the completion of a delayed third round early that day, Graham trailed Zimbabwe’s Simon Hobday by six shots but was alone in second place and played with Hobday and American Jim Albus in the final round.

Hobday was feeling the pinch throughout and appeared to be falling apart at the seams with the prospect of winning such a significant title. By the time the trio reached the 18^th tee on Sunday afternoon, Graham and Hobday were tied at 10 under par one ahead of Albus.

If these names seem a little unfamiliar to you, then a look at the first page of the leader-board which included the likes of Jack Nicklaus, Dave Stockton and Tom Weiskopf might help in assessing the quality of play needed to be in the position in which the leaders found themselves.

The video below captures the final stages of the dramatic day beautifully, but Graham drove first at the 18th and split the fairway although Hobday would also drive it well.

Video footage of the final hole

The par 4 last hole at Pinehurst plays uphill and, on this day, there was a stiff breeze into the players’ face as the trio were about to play their approaches.

Graham had 169 yards to the flag and, as we stood over the ball, he quizzed me by thinking aloud. This was in an era long before the dramatic increase in distances the last 25 years has seen come into the game. I was thinking a 5 iron and Graham appeared as if that was his thinking as well.

There were a couple of circumstances we perhaps did not think through enough. The breeze was sheltered a little by the clubhouse behind the green, the accepted rule of thumb, especially when under pressure, is to hit the lesser club (6 iron) in order to release the club properly and stay committed to the shot and the adrenaline factor needed to be considered.

As to where a shot with a different club might have finished we will never know, the approach by Graham finishing exactly flag high, admittedly, but it was a shot that was always right of the green as he perhaps eased off on the shot a little.

Hobday, who was by that time 4 over for the round, somehow found the green albeit some 35 feet behind the hole.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the television coverage – Hobday was comically showing the world the pressure he was feeling

I stood alongside the ball as Graham surveyed his shot. I really felt it was a pitch a run across the green with perhaps a wedge to negotiate a gentle tier some 20 feet short of the hole but echoing in my mind was a conversation Graham and I had had a couple of weeks earlier in Nashville.

When I had then asked him how things were going with the American caddies he had regularly on his bag he made the comment that they were good but there were times when they wanted to tell him how to play particular shots.

As he grabbed the 56-degree sand iron from the bag, I felt it was the wrong type of shot as to my mind he needed to get the ball running but I will admit, especially given his comment three weeks earlier, I was reluctant to say anything. He had not sought my advice and at this crucial moment I was not about to offer it without him asking.

As the video shows, the pitch from a slightly uphill lie was not struck well, failed to negotiate the tier and finished 12 feet short. He would miss that putt and, somehow, Hobday two putted while admitting himself to ‘choking’ as he referred to his own open and visible display of nerves.

Hobday shakes hands with Albus and Marsh

So Hobday had beaten Graham and Jim Albus by one. It was an opportunity lost as it was hard to imagine Hobday could have held on the following day in an 18-hole playoff.

I headed into the locker room and waited for Graham to finish his media commitments, wondering how he might accept what was a missed opportunity for a senior major in his rookie season. He had, after all, won in his rookie season on the regular PGA Tour in 1976, and this would have made a nice double.

“I think we might have hit the wrong club at the last,” was his comment (referring to his 5-iron approach) when he walked in to find me packing up the bag.

“Yes, and I think there were two wrong clubs hit on that hole,” I replied.

We dined together that evening at one of the many restaurants in the Pinehurst village and as we headed back to the hotel we walked past a noisy gathering in one of the other hotels. It was Hobday and a group of his friends and hangers-on having a great old time.

I suggested to Graham we should join them for a drink, which we did, and Hobday, as only Hobday could and in a light-hearted manner, told Graham that he thought it was he (Marsh) who was choking up the last.

He was, of course, referring to the fact that he had held on despite the pressure being applied and, in the end, it had been Graham that had stumbled at the final hurdle. It was all in jest, of course, and treated that way.

We stayed for a couple more drinks, and the interlude had broken the ice on what had been a long and tiring day and ended my three weeks on the US Senior Tour with at least a bit of frivolity.

Simon Hobday kisses Pinehurst’s 18th green after winning