Table of Contents
To my family, especially Moma woman of deep faith, fierce loyalty, and unconditional love.
To dads everywhere, who encourage their sons and daughters to dream big dreamsand inspire their kids to pursue them.
And to all who cope with Alzheimers patientsmay you, too, find grace through the legacies of your loved ones.
FOREWORD
By PRESIDENT GEORGE H. W. BUSH
One of my chief complaints since leaving my previous day job is the fact that nobody concedes my short putts anymore.There was something truly magical about being president of the United States out on the golf course when, after youve rolled up a horrible putt six feet from the hole, people fell all over themselves saying,Thats good, sir! Put that one in your pocket!
When I commit golf these days, however, everyone seems to have forgotten my going toe-to-toe with Gorbachev or Desert Storm, or when I stared down the nefarious broccoli lobby by publicly declaring my lifelong aversion to that insidious vegetable. No, since leaving the White House, everyone seems to develop lockjaw around me on the greens. As a result, those gimme putts are in short supply. But when my good friend Jim Nantz asked me to pen the foreword to this entertaining, enlightening, and often touching book, there was no question what my answer would be. In golfers parlance, this was a hanging-on-the-lip, falling-in-the-hole gimme.
I say this not because of Jims many accomplishments in his chosen profession, even though he is one of the great sports broadcasters of his generation. Jims early rise to the top and his enduring success speak for themselves. Some things are just meant to be: Tiger Woods and a golf club;Yo-Yo Ma and the cello; James W. Nantz III and a microphone.
Jim knows what it means to be a true friend. He understands that loyalty is a two-way street. Jim is also an extraordinarily bright Point of Light who selflessly supports so many charitable causes. Most of all, as you will soon discover, Jim Nantz is a devoted father and son. Spend ten minutes around Jim and you will know that the deepest currents that shape who and what he is come from his own family.
While Jim has always been right on target in his family and professional life, even a perfect tee shot can find a fairway divot; when it does, men and women of integrity have no choice but to play the ball as it lies. Few of us will walk this earth and not be touched in some way by tragedy, but theres an old saying that adversity has a way of introducing you to yourself.That is the essence of the real story inside these pages. To me, the heartbeat, if you will, of this tale comes from the classy and courageous way Jim and his family have confronted the good and the not so goodthat life brings to every door.
A master storyteller, Jim shares some rich anecdotes about some of the leading sporting events over the last twenty-plus years, including a key horseshoes match that involved, at the time, the great governors of Florida and Texas. To this day, I find that Im constantly defending Nantz and his character against a widely held Bush family charge that he altered the rules. Ten years have passed since that controversy, but I will confide that the forty-third president of the United States continues to be miffed over this matter. Nonetheless, we Bushes love Jimmy and we regard him almost as a surrogate member of our family.
So sit back and enjoy this remarkable personal journey that spans Super Bowl XLI, the Final Four, and the Masters. But those headline-grabbing heroics turn out to be a mere subplot within this endearing real-life story of the transmission of cherished values from a wonderful dad to a loving son.
CHAPTER ONE
May 26, 1995, had been shaping up as "just another day at the officealbeit an office whose desk faces a television camera, a monitor bank, and a bay window that, on this one Friday afternoon, was set up to overlook the 18th green at the Colonial Country Club in Fort Worth, Texas. My parents, Doris and Jim, had come up from Houston to visit me, and as a bonus they got to cheer on one of my college roommates, Blaine McCallister, who was playing in the PGA Tours grand old tournament, the Colonial. I was also blessed to be surrounded by my CBS familyin particular, Ken Venturi, our analyst, who sat to my right; the legendary producer/director Frank Chirkinian, who was, as we say in TV, "in my ear; and Franks protg, associate director Lance Barrow, who sat just to Chirkinians left in the production truck. There I was, thirty-six years old, and about to celebrate my tenth anniversary at CBS Sports, the very network where I had envisioned myself working ever since I was in grade school. In my first decade, I had already been privileged to broadcast virtually every sport the network had to offer. In short, I was fulfilling my lifelong aspiration to narrate the great stories of American sports.
What would I have done with my life had I not been fortunate enough to defy the odds and land behind CBSs anchor desk? Well, perhaps I might have been content to sell them that desk, joining my father in his office-furniture wholesale business. That was always the fallback plan, something I could do to help make life easier for Dad in his later years. Now, though, I was developing a far better father-son business modelone that centered on the three things, besides his family, that Dad loved most: traveling, meeting people, and sports. My schedule was growing more and more hectic. Wherever I turned, the demands on my time continued to increase. So I thought, why not enlist my father as my full-time, on-the-road business partner? He had plenty of management experience, and no one had better people skills. Wed work as a team, traveling together regularly, just as we did when I was growing up.
Everywhere you go, people absolutely love you. Besides, theres no one whose advice I value more, I told him as I tried to pitch this concept. Dad, there will be plenty for you to do, and besides, I need you! I must have told him on a dozen other occasionsand I really felt that way. No matter how I worded my argument, he would invariably deflect it with a noncommittal, Well see, Son.
My fathers fierce independence didnt surprise me. He never wanted anything handed to himor even perceived to be handed to himfrom anyone, including me. For the time being, Dad was more than content to remain a free agent. Whenever our schedules allowed, hed join me at a big football game that I was callingor the Final Four or the Masters. Then, when it was time for me to go on the air, he would stop watching the eventand simply stare at me. Somehow, he could do this for hours on endsitting silently just off camera, listening on a spare headset as the producer orchestrated all the different elements that bring a telecast to life. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him beaming with pride, that beatific smile etched onto the worlds friendliest face, as if he could hardly believe that all of this was really happening to his only son.
Oh, my God! I muttered reflexively when my father entered the tower that day with about three minutes to air. Id never seen Dad like this: His eyes were disoriented. His face looked confused. His speech was halting and barely coherent. We rushed to get him something to drink and some towels. Dad was a young sixty-sixvibrant, active, and strong. But on this sweltering afternoon, the heat and humidityand his haste to make it back to the tower in time for the start of the broadcasthad left him seemingly overcome by exhaustion and dehydration. Instead of taking a few sips of water, as he might usually do, I watched him gulp down two full bottles.