More than just a game between father and son

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The package arrived at the house late on a Wednesday morning. In it was a signed photograph with a letter from Arnold Palmer to my father. Actually, it was a typed letter, but the contents of it were so personal that it was not some sort of form letter, and it was hand signed.

As far back as I can remember, my dad played golf. Eighteen holes every Saturday, nine holes every Sunday, with his regular foursome, from April to October. In a good year, March to November, because, when you live in the Northeast, you play as much as the weather will allow you to.

It turns out, though, that my dad, Jim, a tennis player for a small Division III college in Alabama that no longer exists, only took up golf once we moved from New Jersey to Connecticut in 1980 when I was 5 years old. That's when he met a neighbor who turned him onto the game -- much the same way he would eventually turn me onto the game, not only for my competitive enjoyment, but for a career.

Sure, my dad and I played tennis and shot hoops and even threw the football around -- all sports I played at various stages through college -- but golf was one of the few sports we could play forever, even as he grew older and outward, to 5-foot-10, 230 pounds at one point, while I grew to a healthy and much skinnier 6-foot-4. Golf was also the sport he would watch the most on television, every Sunday, usually after diligently washing his car in our suburban driveway as whatever tournament was on came to its conclusion.

PHOTO ESSAY: There may never be a golfer as photogenic as Arnold Palmer. Need proof? Check out these images of his career. Click here 80 THINGS TO LOVE ABOUT ARNIE: Is it his smile? His untucked shirt? Or the fact that he has a tea named after him? Columnist Melanie Hauser has her top 80. Click here PLAYERS REACT: Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Davis Love III, Gary Player, Ben Crenshaw and others discuss their memories of Arnie, and the impact he has made on their careers. Click here BEST MEMORIES: PGATOUR.COM's columnists share their best memories of dealing with the King. Click here FATHER AND SON: PGATOUR.COM's Brian Wacker reveals how Arnie reached out to his father, who was dying of cancer. Click here LETTER FROM ARNIE: Helen Ross shares a note from Arnie that inspired her father in his battle against prostate cancer. Click here INFLUENCE ON GOLF: He isn't just a golfer. He's an icon who transcended the game, created an Army and made golf cool to watch. Click here ARNIE'S NUMBERS: His wins, margins of victory and the rest of Arnie's numbers. Click here

I remember watching them all, too, from Curtis Strange to Fred Couples to Nick Faldo to Greg Norman to Tiger Woods. Craig Stadler was always a favorite because of his physical resemblance to my dad. Sometimes we'd even go to a golf tournament when the PGA TOUR went to Westchester, N.Y., or Harftord, Conn., or Williamsburg, Va., where we would make an annual summer trip to Kingsmill, site of the old Anheuser-Busch tournament, to visit my godparents and family friends.

There was, of course, Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer, too. Both of them were well past their prime by the time I started watching golf with my dad as a kid, though I do remember Verne Lundquist bellowing out his famous "Yess sir!" and my dad welling up a bit when Nicklaus went on to win that 1986 Masters.

Nicklaus was always my dad's favorite golfer for two reasons: He was the best, and he was the most competitive. Maybe that explains why I have so much admiration for Tiger Woods.

Anyway, fast forward a few years to January 2001 and the PGA Merchandise Show in Orlando, Fla. I had a chance to play at Arnie's club, Bay Hill. He'd just come out with a new book, and with my dad's birthday coming up at the end of the month, I figured this would be a neat gift. Then the guy in the golf shop told me Mr. Palmer could sign the book, too, so I left it there and picked it up the next day.

My dad liked to read, but my mom was the one who would churn through one book after another, mostly fiction, while I was growing up. Dad preferred Tom Clancy or non-fiction like Lee Iacocca's biography. Zzzzz, I always thought. Surely, though, I knew he'd enjoy Arnie's book, which he did so much, in fact, that he now had a new favorite golfer, and his name wasn't Nicklaus or even Woods.

What my dad loved about Palmer, I think, was his connection with the fans and now, his connection with him, which, even though I never read the book myself, I could tell he felt by the way that he talked about the book and about Palmer.

A little over a year later, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Melanoma to be exact. Stage 4 to be even more exact. A year after that, we all knew there would be no more golf in his future. No more Saturday or Sunday foursomes. No more watching the conclusion of whatever tournament was going on that week.

Knowing what was coming, though admittedly never really prepared for it, my brother, Jeff, and I wanted to do something for dad. We did a lot of things, actually, and one of them involved me reaching out to Arnold Palmer, who we thought could maybe call or send his thoughts. So I got in touch with Doc Giffin, who handles a lot of Mr. Palmer's affairs, and explained that my dad had cancer and how he was a big fan, even more so after reading Arnie's book. Doc said he would see what he could do.

That takes me to Sept. 24, 2003. The day my phone rang in the wee hours of the morning with my brother telling me that our dad, who we'd brought to Hospice the day before, had passed away. He was 57. It was also the day the package arrived.

Golf was the furthest thing from my mind that morning as I drove to my dad's house to meet my brother and other friends and family. Yet there it was, later that morning, being delivered via UPS, a package with a return address label bearing the name Arnold Palmer. In it was the letter and autographed photo addressed to "Jim."

Our dad never got to see the letter, but I suspect he was looking down from above while my brother and I read it. Later, we had it framed, along with lots of happy photographs of dad, for his memorial service.

It has often been said that Palmer's connection with the fans transcended the game of golf. That day, and a lot of other days I imagine, it certainly did.