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Opinion & Analysis

Junior’s Last Round

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A few weeks ago, I used one of my golf stories for my own personal therapy. My dad was nearing his last few holes of his life. Forgive me if I do that just one more time.

I just don’t have the words to express my gratitude to so many of you for the wonderful prayers, thoughts and wishes you extended to me and my family. Several of you shared stories of the “Junior” in your life, the person who led you to the wonderful game of golf. I also know that many of you have been or will be the same kind of mentor and leader that Junior was for me.

Since my last story, Junior has looped his walking bag over his strong-again shoulders, and is now pegging it up on the golf courses of heaven. Nicklaus, Fazio, Dye and Perry Maxwell together could never have dreamed or built anything close to the layouts Junior now sees and plays. Someday I will tee it up again with him, but not today.

Today I will tell you about a couple of amazing things that happened on the last two holes of Junior’s last round.   

The night I first wrote you about Junior was a tough night. A few days before I had promised Zak (GolfWRX’s editor) that I would crank out my next story about the day Mr. Hogan sent me to see Matty Reed. When I attempted that night to write about Mr. Hogan and Matty, I couldn’t put two words together that made any sense. I tried, but it really sucked. Soon I gave up on them and I was telling you about my mentor and dad, Junior.

The next morning I sent my story to Zak. I did not think it was suitable for GolfWRX, so I was was quite surprised that he and the team wanted to publish the story. Zak then asked me about a photo or image that could go with the Junior story. I had photos of a 60-year-old dad standing on the tee box at a charity scramble, but nothing that resembled Junior. I sure didn’t have anything from his youth and golf prime.

A few hours later, I went to my mailbox… and hold on to your seat guys and gals. In my mailbox that very morning was a letter from Junior’s old Army buddy, Jack. He was the veteran who had introduced Junior to he game, and had played many rounds with him in Panama. Included with the letter was a photo of my dad, age 22, coiled up in the finish of his powerful swing. The envelope was put in the mail two days before I even had the idea to write the Junior story, so I’m not hearing you if you tell me it happened by chance.

Now for what happened during the last two days of Junior’s life round.

Saturday night at the hospital was a bad one. Daddy was very uncomfortable and fitful.  For most of the day before (and that night), it was like a wrestling match to keep him from pulling out tubes. He had lost 50 pounds from his peak, but still had the arm and shoulder fighting strength of a bear. About 3:30 a.m., I tried something different. I put the bed rail down and got up in there with him and hugged him up. It was good for both of us, plus, I had leverage to hold his arms still. I said, “Daddy, let’s sing.”

In his day, Junior was a great singer. I am not. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. When I was a young boy, Junior gave me golf and my blue jeans, but he never gave me any part of his baritone singing genes. I tried anyway. For a couple of days before that, Junior couldn’t communicate. The last time I heard my dad sing was when we said good bye to my mom in another room of that same hospital 34 months earlier. As a complete family we sang “Amazing Grace” to her that early morning. Daddy’s voice was strong and clear.

I knew daddy loved Hank Williams, so I started with the old country gospel song “I Saw the Light.” I sang the first verse, but dad just continued to wrestle with me. As I hit the chorus, something changed. Daddy relaxed, and then in a clear and strong voice joined me in the song. He sang:

“No more worries, no more fright, now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight, praise the Lord I saw the light.”  

When we finished with Hank, daddy and I sang another song. This time it was “Amazing Grace,” and his voice stayed strong and clear. Junior relaxed after the last verse, and he got some much needed rest for the next few hours. It is now a wonderful memory, and I will continue to tell the story to anyone who will listen.

I didn’t think anything could top that night, but I was wrong. The next night, my wonderful sister-in-law spent the night in the hospital with daddy. When I returned early Monday morning Stephanie said, “Your dad was singing last night.” I had not told anyone about our session the night before. When she told me about his singing, the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up.

[quote_box_center]“What did he sing” I asked. [/quote_box_center]

Maybe I was expecting him to have continued to sing the songs he and I had belted the night before. Wrong! Stephanie then told me he had been singing, “God Bless America.” It was just like Junior to raise his arms and voice to ask God to protect and bless his family and country. As far as we know, it was the last song he ever sang.

The next night, very early Tuesday morning, I held my dad’s hand as he was picked up by his new foursome. I haven’t told you yet, but my mom played golf, too. Maybe she can now smack her drives the same distance as dad, but if not, Junior plays the blue tees, mom the reds.

A few days after my father’s death, we celebrated his life. As the last part of that festival, more than 700 people stood and loudly (and proudly) sang “God Bless America” for Junior. It just doesn’t get any better than that!    

Thanks so much to all of you for reading. I promise to get back on my game and the Hogan round with my next story.            

Tom Stites has spent more than 30 years working in the golf industry. In that time, he has been awarded more than 200 golf-related patents, and has designed and engineered more than 300 golf products that have been sold worldwide. As part of his job, he had the opportunity to work with hundreds of touring professionals and developed clubs that have been used to win all four of golf's major championships (several times), as well as 200+ PGA Tour events. Stites got his golf industry start at the Ben Hogan Company in 1986, where Ben Hogan and his personal master club builder Gene Sheeley trained the young engineer in club design. Tom went on to start his own golf club equipment engineering company in 1993 in Fort Worth, Texas, which he sold to Nike Inc. in 2000. The facility grew and became known as "The Oven," and Stites led the design and engineering teams there for 12 years as the Director of Product Development. Stites, 59, is a proud veteran of the United States Air Force. He is now semi-retired, but continues his work as an innovation, business, engineering and design consultant. He currently serves on the Board of Directors of the Ben Hogan Foundation, a 501C foundation that works to preserve the legacy and memory of the late, great Ben Hogan.

13 Comments

13 Comments

  1. Cyd

    Dec 4, 2015 at 9:09 pm

    God Bless

  2. Randy

    Oct 24, 2015 at 3:47 pm

    Thanks for sharing that wonderful story. You brought tears to my eyes as sit in the Tulsa airport waiting to fly home. God bless you and your family!

  3. Guy

    Oct 23, 2015 at 11:34 pm

    Great story, thanks for sharing.

  4. Bert

    Oct 22, 2015 at 7:24 pm

    Thanks for Blessing us with your thoughts, they are appreciated.

  5. Carter

    Oct 22, 2015 at 1:42 pm

    When you said you lowered the rail and laid with him I lost it. Such a touching story. Thanks for sharing.

  6. Forsbrand

    Oct 22, 2015 at 1:26 pm

    Thank you for such a moving story puts so much into perspective

  7. Shortgame85

    Oct 22, 2015 at 9:42 am

    Well done, Tom. Your recollection will resonate with all of us who were fortunate enough to have a father whose memory we cherish for all the gifts he bestowed upon us. The price we pay for loving so hard is that ineluctable, ineffable sting of loss. But, what great memories!

  8. Mauricio Jimenez

    Oct 22, 2015 at 7:14 am

    Thank you for sharing your final moments with your father. I lost my father three years ago and reading your story ripped me back to that time. Crazy as it may seems but I remember my father’s last few weeks with happiness more than sorrow. Spending every waking moment with him until the end: talking, laughing and crying. My dad was not a golfer, but he was my hero as your dad was to you. Junior sounds like he was a great man and friend…and a better father. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. May Junior rest in peace.

  9. Jake

    Oct 21, 2015 at 4:39 pm

    Love this story. I was there for the funeral… and it was amazing to hear everyone singing together at the end. Thanks for sharing this story with the public, it shows the kind of man he is…

  10. Bruce Rearick

    Oct 21, 2015 at 4:26 pm

    Tom,
    I am so sorry for your loss. I hope you can let your memories replace some of the sorrow.

    Bruce

  11. Steve

    Oct 21, 2015 at 4:21 pm

    Terrific….thanks for sharing. Bill Rinaldo, a FL club pro at the time, gave me my job at the course so I could play for free and practice too. He also helped me become a young man and taught me many life lessons. Miss that guy…need to contact him and thank him.

  12. alexdub

    Oct 21, 2015 at 1:30 pm

    Every once and a while life jumps up and gives us one of these “tender mercies”, and when it happens, the feeling sticks to us for a lifetime. Glad to hear about you experience, Tom. It really is all about family, isn’t it.

  13. John

    Oct 21, 2015 at 12:59 pm

    A heartwarming tale. Every once in awhile, God gives us a stirring reminder or visual image of ‘what love looks like.’ Thank you for giving us that image today.

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Opinion & Analysis

The 2 primary challenges golf equipment companies face

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As the editor-in-chief of this website and an observer of the GolfWRX forums and other online golf equipment discourse for over a decade, I’m pretty well attuned to the grunts and grumbles of a significant portion of the golf equipment purchasing spectrum. And before you accuse me of lording above all in some digital ivory tower, I’d like to offer that I worked at golf courses (public and private) for years prior to picking up my pen, so I’m well-versed in the non-degenerate golf equipment consumers out there. I touched (green)grass (retail)!

Complaints about the ills of and related to the OEMs usually follow some version of: Product cycles are too short for real innovation, tour equipment isn’t the same as retail (which is largely not true, by the way), too much is invested in marketing and not enough in R&D, top staffer X hasn’t even put the new driver in play, so it’s obviously not superior to the previous generation, prices are too high, and on and on.

Without digging into the merits of any of these claims, which I believe are mostly red herrings, I’d like to bring into view of our rangefinder what I believe to be the two primary difficulties golf equipment companies face.

One: As Terry Koehler, back when he was the CEO of Ben Hogan, told me at the time of the Ft Worth irons launch, if you can’t regularly hit the golf ball in a coin-sized area in the middle of the face, there’s not a ton that iron technology can do for you. Now, this is less true now with respect to irons than when he said it, and is less and less true by degrees as the clubs get larger (utilities, fairways, hybrids, drivers), but there remains a great deal of golf equipment truth in that statement. Think about it — which is to say, in TL;DR fashion, get lessons from a qualified instructor who will teach you about the fundamentals of repeatable impact and how the golf swing works, not just offer band-aid fixes. If you can’t repeatably deliver the golf club to the golf ball in something resembling the manner it was designed for, how can you expect to be getting the most out of the club — put another way, the maximum value from your investment?

Similarly, game improvement equipment can only improve your game if you game it. In other words, get fit for the clubs you ought to be playing rather than filling the bag with the ones you wish you could hit or used to be able to hit. Of course, don’t do this if you don’t care about performance and just want to hit a forged blade while playing off an 18 handicap. That’s absolutely fine. There were plenty of members in clubs back in the day playing Hogan Apex or Mizuno MP-32 irons who had no business doing so from a ballstriking standpoint, but they enjoyed their look, feel, and complementary qualities to their Gatsby hats and cashmere sweaters. Do what brings you a measure of joy in this maddening game.

Now, the second issue. This is not a plea for non-conforming equipment; rather, it is a statement of fact. USGA/R&A limits on every facet of golf equipment are detrimental to golf equipment manufacturers. Sure, you know this, but do you think about it as it applies to almost every element of equipment? A 500cc driver would be inherently more forgiving than a 460cc, as one with a COR measurement in excess of 0.83. 50-inch shafts. Box grooves. And on and on.

Would fewer regulations be objectively bad for the game? Would this erode its soul? Fortunately, that’s beside the point of this exercise, which is merely to point out the facts. The fact, in this case, is that equipment restrictions and regulations are the slaughterbench of an abundance of innovation in the golf equipment space. Is this for the best? Well, now I’ve asked the question twice and might as well give a partial response, I guess my answer to that would be, “It depends on what type of golf you’re playing and who you’re playing it with.”

For my part, I don’t mind embarrassing myself with vintage blades and persimmons chasing after the quasi-spiritual elevation of a well-struck shot, but that’s just me. Plenty of folks don’t give a damn if their grooves are conforming. Plenty of folks think the folks in Liberty Corner ought to add a prison to the museum for such offences. And those are just a few of the considerations for the amateur game — which doesn’t get inside the gallery ropes of the pro game…

Different strokes in the game of golf, in my humble opinion.

Anyway, I believe equipment company engineers are genuinely trying to build better equipment year over year. The marketing departments are trying to find ways to make this equipment appeal to the broadest segment of the golf market possible. All of this against (1) the backdrop of — at least for now — firm product cycles. And golfers who, with their ~15 average handicap (men), for the most part, are not striping the golf ball like Tiger in his prime and seem to have less and less time year over year to practice and improve. (2) Regulations that massively restrict what they’re able to do…

That’s the landscape as I see it and the real headwinds for golf equipment companies. No doubt, there’s more I haven’t considered, but I think the previous is a better — and better faith — point of departure when formulating any serious commentary on the golf equipment world than some of the more cynical and conspiratorial takes I hear.

Agree? Disagree? Think I’m worthy of an Adam Hadwin-esque security guard tackle? Let me know in the comments.

@golfoncbs The infamous Adam Hadwin tackle ? #golf #fyp #canada #pgatour #adamhadwin ? Ghibli-style nostalgic waltz – MaSssuguMusic

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Podcasts

Fore Love of Golf: Introducing a new club concept

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Episode #16 brings us Cliff McKinney. Cliff is the founder of Old Charlie Golf Club, a new club, and concept, to be built in the Florida panhandle. The model is quite interesting and aims to make great, private golf more affordable. We hope you enjoy the show!

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Opinion & Analysis

On Scottie Scheffler wondering ‘What’s the point of winning?’

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Last week, I came across a reel from BBC Sport on Instagram featuring Scottie Scheffler speaking to the media ahead of The Open at Royal Portrush. In it, he shared that he often wonders what the point is of wanting to win tournaments so badly — especially when he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t lead to a truly fulfilling life.

 

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“Is it great to be able to win tournaments and to accomplish the things I have in the game of golf? Yeah, it brings tears to my eyes just to think about it because I’ve literally worked my entire life to be good at this sport,” Scheffler said. “To have that kind of sense of accomplishment, I think, is a pretty cool feeling. To get to live out your dreams is very special, but at the end of the day, I’m not out here to inspire the next generation of golfers. I’m not out here to inspire someone to be the best player in the world, because what’s the point?”

Ironically — or perhaps perfectly — he went on to win the claret jug.

That question — what’s the point of winning? — cuts straight to the heart of the human journey.

As someone who’s spent over two decades in the trenches of professional golf, and in deep study of the mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of the game, I see Scottie’s inner conflict as a sign of soul evolution in motion.

I came to golf late. I wasn’t a junior standout or college All-American. At 27, I left a steady corporate job to see if I could be on the PGA Tour starting as a 14-handicap, average-length hitter. Over the years, my journey has been defined less by trophies and more by the relentless effort to navigate the deeply inequitable and gated system of professional golf — an effort that ultimately turned inward and helped me evolve as both a golfer and a person.

One perspective that helped me make sense of this inner dissonance around competition and our culture’s tendency to overvalue winning is the idea of soul evolution.

The University of Virginia’s Division of Perceptual Studies has done extensive research on reincarnation, and Netflix’s Surviving Death (Episode 6) explores the topic, too. Whether you take it literally or metaphorically, the idea that we’re on a long arc of growth — from beginner to sage elder — offers a profound perspective.

If you accept the premise literally, then terms like “young soul” and “old soul” start to hold meaning. However, even if we set the word “soul” aside, it’s easy to see that different levels of life experience produce different worldviews.

Newer souls — or people in earlier stages of their development — may be curious and kind but still lack discernment or depth. There is a naivety, and they don’t yet question as deeply, tending to see things in black and white, partly because certainty feels safer than confronting the unknown.

As we gain more experience, we begin to experiment. We test limits. We chase extreme external goals — sometimes at the expense of health, relationships, or inner peace — still operating from hunger, ambition, and the fragility of the ego.

It’s a necessary stage, but often a turbulent and unfulfilling one.

David Duval fell off the map after reaching World No. 1. Bubba Watson had his own “Is this it?” moment with his caddie, Ted Scott, after winning the Masters.

In Aaron Rodgers: Enigma, reflecting on his 2011 Super Bowl win, Rodgers said:

“Now I’ve accomplished the only thing that I really, really wanted to do in my life. Now what? I was like, ‘Did I aim at the wrong thing? Did I spend too much time thinking about stuff that ultimately doesn’t give you true happiness?’”

Jim Carrey once said, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”

Eventually, though, something shifts.

We begin to see in shades of gray. Winning, dominating, accumulating—these pursuits lose their shine. The rewards feel more fleeting. Living in a constant state of fight-or-flight makes us feel alive, yes, but not happy and joyful.

Compassion begins to replace ambition. Love, presence, and gratitude become more fulfilling than status, profits, or trophies. We crave balance over burnout. Collaboration over competition. Meaning over metrics.

Interestingly, if we zoom out, we can apply this same model to nations and cultures. Countries, like people, have a collective “soul stage” made up of the individuals within them.

Take the United States, for example. I’d place it as a mid-level soul: highly competitive and deeply driven, but still learning emotional maturity. Still uncomfortable with nuance. Still believing that more is always better. Despite its global wins, the U.S. currently ranks just 23rd in happiness (as of 2025). You might liken it to a gifted teenager—bold, eager, and ambitious, but angsty and still figuring out how to live well and in balance. As much as a parent wants to protect their child, sometimes the child has to make their own mistakes to truly grow.

So when Scottie Scheffler wonders what the point of winning is, I don’t see someone losing strength.

I see someone evolving.

He’s beginning to look beyond the leaderboard. Beyond metrics of success that carry a lower vibration. And yet, in a poetic twist, Scheffler did go on to win The Open. But that only reinforces the point: even at the pinnacle, the question remains. And if more of us in the golf and sports world — and in U.S. culture at large — started asking similar questions, we might discover that the more meaningful trophy isn’t about accumulating or beating others at all costs.

It’s about awakening and evolving to something more than winning could ever promise.

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