AUGUSTA, Ga. – When weather interrupts the Masters, as it did Tuesday, a practice day tends to morph into whatever you want it to be. More time for your fantasy pools. More time to study Masters history. More time to comprehend this Gnome hysteria.
Personally, rain always affords time to recall favorite Augusta moments, two of which have little to do with the competitive landscape and everything to do with the human element that is at the heart of the game.
For instance, the day in 2014 when Billy Casper embraced a man whose life he had helped save 46 years earlier. It was such a moment of serendipity to be standing there and to have Jay Haas and Billy Harmon explain what was unfolding before my eyes.
The man with a patch over his left eye and without a left arm was identified as Clebe McClary and as he hugged Casper and fought back tears, the story was told. In 1968, 1st Marine Lt. Patrick Cleburne McClary was in a U.S. military convalescent hospital in Japan, recovering from horrific injuries while on 19th reconnaissance mission in Vietnam.
“I’d given up,” McClary said. “I wanted to die, and I’d have died right there if not for him.”
“Him” being Casper, who was playing offseason tournaments in Japan but true to his nature as a righteous and caring man, he asked if he could visit the hospital for U.S. soldiers on his day off. McClary didn’t know golf, didn’t know anything about this visitor, Billy Casper; he only knew that the man quietly said incredible words of inspiration that day.
“God could use you today. Don’t give up.” That is what McClary said the man whispered. “Then he thanked me for what I had done for our country and added, ‘God bless you.’ ”
McClary heeded the inspiration. He did not choose to die. He recuperated, returned home to his native South Carolina and with wife Deanna raised two daughters, Tara and Christa. Dedicated to helping military veterans pull their lives together, McClary became a motivational speaker, wrote a book entitled “Living Proof,” and always wondered about that golfer who delivered hope and light.
His neighbor in Pawleys Island, Haas, one day heard the story from the winner of a Silver Star, a Bronze Star and three Purple Hearts and asked McClary if he remembered the golfer’s name. “Billy Casper,” said McClary. “Do you know him?”
Haas smiled and knew what he had to do. He called “Uncle Bob,” aka 1968 Masters champ Bob Goalby, who was great friends with Casper and it was determined that a meeting would take place at the 2014 Masters. Getting tickets for McClary was no problem, even easier was arranging for Casper to say yes and so out in back of the famed Augusta National clubhouse that warm spring, McClary hugged Casper, thanked him profusely, buried his head in his arms and cried.
Whispered Casper: “Don’t let go till you want to let go.”
Somehow, standing there to witness the emotions, the wonder of the Masters took on a different meaning that afternoon.
It had done similarly to me in 2003 when the heartwarming story of a special man, Jeff Julian, entered the Augusta picture. Afflicted with ALS, Julian was at the Masters to receive the Ben Hogan Award from the Golf Writers’ Association of America and just standing and trying to speak to a packed hall was a monumental task.
Julian was brilliant. Tears flowed. His, mine, others’. His only wish was to see Augusta National for the first time and he expected that to happen the very next day in Round 1.
It never did. Torrential rain fell that Thursday, Julian spent hours just sitting in the car with his wife and sisters, and when the gates never opened, the dream was washed away.
Jeff Julian had a passion for golf that ran deeper than measurements could document yet he never saw the beauty of Augusta National. He died in July of 2004 at the age of 42.
Billy Casper saw the beauty of Augusta National every April for 55 years until he died in February of 2015 and never, ever did he take it for granted. The last Masters he attended was when he shared that emotional scene with McClary, a genuine war hero in every sense of the word.
But Casper, too, was a hero, and when he was asked that day in 2014 what his legacy was, he said: “I want to be remembered for how I loved my fellow man.”
Rest assured, Billy, it is how many of us remember you, especially when the pilgrimage to Augusta arrives every April, and particularly on those days when rain and turbulent weather present plenty of time for reflection.
The urge to call McClary was strong and it was a joy to hear Deanna pick up the phone and explain that she and Clebe were just finishing a round of golf in Greensboro. With just one arm and one eye, but an abundance of spirit, the former military officer is enamored with the game and can’t get enough of it.
COVID created many obstacles for his motivational speaking engagements and going digital wasn’t the same. “I prefer to help people eye-to-eye,” he said.
McClary reported that he had gone to services for Casper back in 2015 and that he often thinks of the great golf champion and even better human being.
He is not alone. Never are steps taken past the big tree behind the Augusta National clubhouse without thinking of Casper and of Goalby, who died three months ago.
And often, while slowly moving my car through the gates to start another day of work, my thoughts are of Julian, who never got that one chance to see inside. Silently, the promise is made to him to never take it for granted.
