OUR REGULAR GAME NO. 8

         As I compose this, it is the day after Christmas 2001.  Holidays inevitably cause me to stop and reflect on where I am in life and what I can do to make myself a better person.  It has been no different this year.

           It’s taken me longer than most, but I’ve finally realized that our lives are marked not so much by achievements as they are by people.   And that brings me to today’s subject.

           You may have heard the news reports that Dick Schaap passed away over the holidays at the too-young age of 68.  The outpouring of praise in the eulogies offered by Schaap’s colleagues and competitors in the media has exceeded anything we’re likely to see again soon.  In short, Schaap was not only an accomplished sports journalist and author, he was a man who apparently had no enemies.  Story after story about him reveals a man possessed of uncommon charm and grace, in addition to rare skills at his chosen craft.

           Though his memory hardly needs it, I’d like to add my own gloss to Mr. Schaap’s numerous eulogies.  When my first novel, The Greatest Player Who Never Lived, was published, I never expected the outpouring of critical praise that followed.  In short, the book enjoyed a success I never anticipated.  All of a sudden, I was being written about in virtually every major newspaper around the country.  T L Golf Magazine even did an article that called me “The John Grisham of Golf.” I quickly found myself being interviewed on various radio shows around the country as well, including Mr. Schaap’s program on ESPN Radio.

           Now Dick Schaap was easily the most prominent sports reporter who interviewed me.  Yet, while every other program had an underling, called a “producer,” call to schedule my appearance, Mr. Schaap did the honors himself.  Imagine sitting in your home and getting a telephone call from someone of his stature, wanting you to be on his show.  I remember thinking that things were out of kilter: I should have been interviewing him, not vice versa.

           On top of it all, he was unbelievably gracious, taking the time to get to know me before we went on the air.  When he found out I was a Tulane graduate, he shared with me his memories of Ham Richardson winning the NCAA tennis championships for Tulane in the 1950s and of Max McGee going from Tulane to NFL stardom with the Green Bay Packers in the 1960s.  The man knew his sports trivia.

           Later, when I commented to my publisher about what a warm and friendly man Schaap had been, he replied, “Dick Schaap is the nicest man in the business, and everyone will tell you that.”  I cannot imagine a better reputation to have.

           I now know that Dick Schaap taught me that you’re never too important to be nice.  While I can never hope to have the same grace and charm that he displayed all his life, I owe it to him to try just a little harder to be like him.  I wish I could tell him how our brief contact touched me in such a positive way.  I’d like to think he knows anyway.

           Until the next time, this is Mike Veron hoping every putt breaks just the way you read it.

       About the Author

J. Michael Veron is the acclaimed author of The Greatest Player Who Never Lived and The Greatest Course That Never Was. His third novel, tentatively titled The Caddie, is scheduled for release in the spring of 2002.

Mike's work has earned him the title of "master of fiction" from USA Today, and Travel and Leisure Golf Magazine has called him "The John Grisham of Golf." In addition, the New York Times hailed The Greatest Player as "Golf's Literary Rookie of the Year," and the Seattle Times ranked The Greatest Player as second on its all-time list of "Five Wonderful Golf Books." At one time, The Greatest Player and The Greatest Course were the first and third best-selling sports fiction in the country.

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