Good eye Yoda , never noticed that till you pointed it out.......but you've seen them both up close and in person many times I believe.
I loved to watch George each year at The Masters.
In my mind's eye I can still see him on the range to the right side of Magnolia Lane. No place on earth is more beautiful than Augusta National on a crisp, sunny spring morning, and George is preparing for his round. Nearby stands his golf bag, crafted in a rich, red leather with the word Spalding emblazoned in white script. He is rifling fairway wood shots, and with each swing, I hear the resounding "Crack!" as the turf flies and the ball hisses. His caddy stands in the distance, shag bag in hand, catching the incoming missiles on the first or second bounce. Even after all these years, that memory could not be more vivid.
The word "cool" is cliche, but I can think of no other that better describes George. No doubt influenced by his hero, Ben Hogan, he was a sharp dresser. Not 'sharp' as in loud or flamboyant, but elegant. Like Ben, he loved his whites, blues and grays. But, unlike Ben, he also loved his reds, especially in his sweaters.
George had a penchant for the buttoned alpaca cardigans, as did many of the guys in "those days". You don't see them much anymore; everybody now wears pullovers. But they were in style then, and George was style personified.
Sunglasses, on the other hand, were rare on the fairways of the PGA Tour. In fact, George was almost the only player who wore them. The remaining other was Miller Barber, who could not be recognized without his large aviators that earned him the nickname, Mr. X.
Ah, "Those were the days, my friend. We thought they'd never end." But end they did, and in George's case, far too early. But while he was with us, he was the consummate professional: he worked hard, played hard, and did it all with his own inimitable flair. Set to music, his life's lyrics would be those of My Way.
In everyone's life there are many people one can remember.
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