Original Legends event changed golf after 50

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The premise was simple. Talk about those first few tournaments.

The players. The competition. The stories.

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Rankings: Liberty Mutual
Field list: 2010 teams
Legends event: Full coverage

As we chatted under the sprawling oak tree on Augusta National's lawn, it struck me that 50 seemed so old back then. Being on the low side of 30 -- 25 to be exact -- will do that. So would the times. Golfers faded away back then. One minute they were playing the PGA TOUR, the next they were easing into a second career.

A rare few gathered at the Masters every year and struggled. Gene Sarazen would hold court and play a ceremonial nine holes. Billy Casper and Roberto DeVicenzo came alive in old black and white photos or grainy film. Tommy Bolt was off in Oklahoma or Florida or someplace telling stories.

Arnold Palmer, at 48, was still the King.

So when Jimmy Demaret and Fred Raphael got the idea for a fiftysomething tournament in Austin? There was a whole lot of headshaking going on.

That first Legends of Golf back in 1978 felt more like Demaret's Lawn Party for his old buddies. And in some ways it was.

The players dusted off their clubs, but wondered if they could still play. They came because you couldn't say no to a Demaret get-together and, what the heck, why not have a little fun? Just see what happens. No serious expectations.

What we got was magic.

Imagine walking around a corner and seeing a small man in knickers backlit by the setting sun. It was Sarazen looking out at the course, wondering, perhaps, if this was the start of something nice or one-shot-and-out mistake. To shake his hand and say hello.

Every day was a Hall of Fame experience. Meeting players you'd only heard about, but never saw play. Listening to them spin stories -- on themselves, on tournaments, on moments long gone. On Demaret and Jackie Burke. Watching them greet each other for the first time in a decade or more; seeing the years fade away.

Getting to know five-time British Open champion Peter Thomson and his partner Kel Nagle. Watching Paul Runyan work on bunker shots. Learning the difference between croquet and sidesaddle putting. The Hebert brothers -- Jay and Lionel -- with their Cajun accents and wild stories. Listening to Gardner Dickinson needle Snead -- all the way to the first Legends title -- by a shot over Thomson and Nagle.

It was amazing to watch them flip that switch and compete. To partner up and stroll around Onion Creek Country Club hitting shots that had everyone talking -- and not just about those old iconic shots like Sarazen's double-eagle.

There were no gallery ropes, just respect for the players teeing it up. It was fun. It was interesting. And a year later, it provided one of the most compelling golf telecasts ever -- a six-hole playoff won by Boros and DeVicenzo over Bolt and Art Wall that turned that lazy Lawn Party into what's now the Champions Tour.

Having Palmer turn 50 in September 1979 and join the gang in 1980 didn't hurt either. He brought an equal part charisma and talent to the mix -- and gallery ropes for the first time -- and solidified the idea that a senior tour would indeed work. Add into that mix of some of Demaret's Hollywood friends like Bob Hope who would drop by and the question mark was suddenly a big-time hit.

With it came so many stories -- and ironic twists. Bob Goalby, it turned out, had lied about his age way back and had to produce his birth certificate to prove he was 50 when his turn came around. Charlie Sifford was gassing up golf carts back in Ohio when the powers that be finally softened to the idea that the first Black man to play the tour was indeed a legend.

Ken Venturi talking about overcoming a stuttering problem. Bolt leaning back in a chair and guffawing about those old Tempestuous Tommy club tossing stories -- the only admission of guilt, a sly a wink. Snead trading in Dickinson for Don January -- only to be beaten by Wall and Bolt. DiVicenzo playing with Goalby. Snead grabbing any free ride back to the Virginia that was offered.

Texas legends Demaret and Burke serving as gracious hosts -- although Burke would still take you down a notch at times, just to make sure you were paying attention.

The only thing missing? Two huge figures in the game -- Byron Nelson and Ben Hogan. Texans who lived a three-hour drive away.

Hogan, the story goes, was going to come until Demaret announced he was in the field. Then he backed out. He wasn't ready to play. And Nelson? He hadn't played in years and he was too involved in his tournament every spring. If only they'd been there for that first event.

Thumbing through that first tournament program, a headline grabbed me. "Legendary Golfers Compete for Modern Purse.'' The short story detailed Hogan winning just $328,000 in a career and Demaret topping the money list one season with $27,000. Snead, at the time, was 39th on the all-time money list. The 24 players in this inaugural tournament would play for golf's biggest purse -- $400,000.

Getting reacquainted with these legends? Priceless.

The tournament has come full circle. For a while it languished as a individual event with fields that didn't feel too legendary. And today? It's a powerhouse event showcasing some of the best players in the game.

Tom Watson almost won a British Open at 59 and tied for 18th at the Masters. Fred Couples is tearing it up on two tours at 50 and finished sixth at Augusta. Bernhard Langer, who won last year's Legends with Tom Lehman, is quietly dominating the tour.

The partnerships? How can you bet against the defending champs? Or Couples and Jay Haas? Or Watson and Andy North? Or Mark O'Meara and Nick Price?

The Demaret Division -- for players 70 and up -- has Lee Trevino, Billy Casper, Sifford and Doug Ford, who played in that first Legends.

And 50? It doesn't seem so old now, does it? Especially when it's in your rear-view mirror. And when guys like Couples and Watson are redefining themselves and blurring the line between the TOUR and the Champions Tour.

So many of those original Legends are gone now, but the memories of that first event? They're as clear as one 1991 afternoon on the veranda at Augusta when Sarazen held out his gnarled hands and tried to explain why this would be his final ceremonial nine. He would be 90 the following year and didn't have the strength in his hands or legs anymore.

A few days later, he hit an inexplicable shot to the seventh green that went between the branches on the trees and landed in a bunker. He nearly holed his shot for par with a sand wedge, the club he pretty much invented.

At that moment, I didn't think about the double eagle. My mind flashed back to that first Legends. To the almost tiny figure gazing at the golf course.

To a lawn party that changed our perception of 50; a moment that was simply priceless.

Melanie Hauser is a columnist for PGATOUR.COM. Her views do not necessarily represent the views of the PGA TOUR.