Rick Dandy
New
Dear Mr. Venturi,
I know, you always say, "Call me Ken."
Congratulations on your induction into the World Golf Hall of Fame.
As you know, my Mother and Father, raised me to remember where I came from. I have tried my best. I am not in the habit of sharing anything in the CBS family, but today, with the hopes of your speedy recovery to good health, and my many memories of you, I am reminded of your example, of how to live a good life, and give back.
The first time I practiced and played golf with you, you were impeccably dressed, in sensible clothes, even though you could afford whatever you wanted. Your equipment was equal to your style. Your grip, austere, and elegant. Your stance, quiet and confident. Each was prepared efficiently, without waste. The ball didn't have a chance. You played quick, but never hurried. On the practice ground, each Drive seemed destined to land on top of the last one. The ball left each clubhead, exploding low, disturbing the grass very little, and its curvature, disturbed the air even less. You allowed me to sit there, Indian style, to watch and learn.
After a while, a PGA Tour Professional had come by to practice. He was having a tough time that week, and asked you to take a look at him. You helped him and said to him, "Meet me here at 8:30 in the morning." I thought, 'This is amazing. Here's Ken Venturi, friend of Kings, Presidents, industrialists, movie stars, and celebrities, helping a guy, who's got a case of the lefts and rights, and probably won't make the cut this week.' The next morning couldn't come fast enough for me. I wanted to see the continuation of the lesson.
The next day, we got there early. Then we practiced. I thought to myself, 'When is the lesson?' The Tour Pro was a no-show. Never to be heard from again. I never asked you, "What happened?" We just played on, fast and furious. You never missed a shot. I missed most of mine.
At dinner that night, you said to everyone at the table, "Rick hit'em good today." I said, "We just practiced." One of the guys said, "Kenny, you don't let anyone watch you practice!" You fired back, "Ricky knows enough, to keep his mouth shut!"
I sometimes wonder what happened to that guy. I hope he had good fortune.
He missed a lesson with a champion. I got the lesson of a lifetime, from a man, who never forgot where he came from, and always gave back.
Get Well Soon,
Your friend,
Rick Dandy
Bethesda
6 May 2013
<iframe width="1280" height="720" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/dCvPwgl1Mds" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
I know, you always say, "Call me Ken."
Congratulations on your induction into the World Golf Hall of Fame.
As you know, my Mother and Father, raised me to remember where I came from. I have tried my best. I am not in the habit of sharing anything in the CBS family, but today, with the hopes of your speedy recovery to good health, and my many memories of you, I am reminded of your example, of how to live a good life, and give back.
The first time I practiced and played golf with you, you were impeccably dressed, in sensible clothes, even though you could afford whatever you wanted. Your equipment was equal to your style. Your grip, austere, and elegant. Your stance, quiet and confident. Each was prepared efficiently, without waste. The ball didn't have a chance. You played quick, but never hurried. On the practice ground, each Drive seemed destined to land on top of the last one. The ball left each clubhead, exploding low, disturbing the grass very little, and its curvature, disturbed the air even less. You allowed me to sit there, Indian style, to watch and learn.
After a while, a PGA Tour Professional had come by to practice. He was having a tough time that week, and asked you to take a look at him. You helped him and said to him, "Meet me here at 8:30 in the morning." I thought, 'This is amazing. Here's Ken Venturi, friend of Kings, Presidents, industrialists, movie stars, and celebrities, helping a guy, who's got a case of the lefts and rights, and probably won't make the cut this week.' The next morning couldn't come fast enough for me. I wanted to see the continuation of the lesson.
The next day, we got there early. Then we practiced. I thought to myself, 'When is the lesson?' The Tour Pro was a no-show. Never to be heard from again. I never asked you, "What happened?" We just played on, fast and furious. You never missed a shot. I missed most of mine.
At dinner that night, you said to everyone at the table, "Rick hit'em good today." I said, "We just practiced." One of the guys said, "Kenny, you don't let anyone watch you practice!" You fired back, "Ricky knows enough, to keep his mouth shut!"
I sometimes wonder what happened to that guy. I hope he had good fortune.
He missed a lesson with a champion. I got the lesson of a lifetime, from a man, who never forgot where he came from, and always gave back.
Get Well Soon,
Your friend,
Rick Dandy
Bethesda
6 May 2013
<iframe width="1280" height="720" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/dCvPwgl1Mds" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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