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When Jesus found Jim Nantz’s wallet

• Tom Rife: Livin' the Team
• April 8, 2021
• 699

As the sun’s penetrating radiance ushered in another brilliant spring morning, something a little peculiar “dawned” on me: I never wear the most expensive shirt in my closet.

At least I hoped it was still in the closet.

Thankfully, it only took a few minutes of digging through tangled hangers to find the neglected item. And with another Masters golf championship roaring to a tension-filled conclusion this weekend, what better time to examine the prized garment’s condition?

Wrinkles? None. Discoloring? None. Snags or other noticeable imperfections? None.

Big sigh of relief!

I never imagined a souvenir from Augusta National could cost so much. This, after all, is the hallowed ground of golf, where the trademark pimento cheese sandwich sells for a mere $1.50. A bottle of water goes for $2 — far more reasonable than the $7 I shelled out during my last trip to The Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati.

No price-gouging the patrons at the Masters concession stands. Yes, they’re patrons, not spectators, and always will be. It’s one of the many endearing traditions at the tournament.

“A tradition like no other,” as CBS broadcaster Jim Nantz has so often proclaimed (more on him later).

Never been to Augusta or to the Masters. Regrettably, years ago I offered my one opportunity to obtain a coveted press credential to a co-worker, whose passion for golf was far more flamboyant than mine. To this day, he still covers the sport for the Naples Daily News in Florida.

The other blunder I made then was asking Greg to bring me a shirt from golf’s promised land. This was because merchandise for the first major of the year is only sold to the public seven days a year and only on the grounds of the Masters tournament. (Some companies buy the goods there and then offer them for sale later on the internet.)

Greg understood he was to be reimbursed. It was not to be a gift.

“Here’s your shirt, boss,” he said upon his return to the newspaper office. “It was awesome. The azaleas were awesome. The golf was awesome. The crowd was awesome. The pimento cheese was cheap and tasted awesome. And I need $75, please.”

Gulp. A big one. Bigger than the ones at 7-Eleven.

Some two decades later, though, the “Masters Collection XXL” keepsake is no worse for the wear. Why should it be? Unlike my unraveling Daytona International Speedway sweatshirt, the pricey polo with narrow blue and green stripes — and the famous Masters logo stitched in bright yellow — has been worn only on rare occasions.

Should have worn it to church last Sunday. At this stage in life, Oak Chapel is probably as close to Augusta National as I may ever get.

Yet I do have fond memories of, and connections to, the club founded in 1932 by Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts.

Ever heard of The Squire? That was the nickname assigned to legendary golf champion Gene Sarazen. The story goes that he earned his amusing label because he didn’t have much faith in golf as a career, so he bought a farm. At the time farm owners were known as squires.

A fixture on the golf scene on Marco Island, Florida, where he lived for years after his playing career, the soft-spoken Sarazen was famous for “the shot heard ‘round the world” at Augusta in 1935. It was my privilege to have spoken with the diminutive, knickers-wearing Sarazen on countless occasions. It was always fun hearing him talk about his historic feat.

On the 15th hole in the final round of the Masters, Sarazen struck a spoon (the loft of the modern 4 wood) 232 yards and into the hole, scoring a double eagle and pulling even with tournament leader Craig Wood. The following day, the two played a 36-hole playoff, with Sarazen winning by five shots.

In 1955 the Sarazen Bridge, approaching the left side of the 15th green at Augusta, was named to commemorate the 20th anniversary of The Squire’s memorable double eagle.

While that was Sarazen’s most famous stroke of genius, he once told me of another impressive shot at Augusta when he hit a golf ball through a Coca-Cola stand and onto the green. His humorous description of that shot was priceless.

Sarazen died in Naples in 1999 at age 97 from complications of pneumonia. One of his pals was golf champ and CBS commentator Ken Venturi, who also lived on Marco and eventually founded the Eagle Creek Country Club halfway between Naples and the island. It was Venturi who uttered the phrase “the Masters begins on the back nine on Sunday.” That savvy portrayal is still used today.

Venturi, who died in California in 2013 at 82, also was “best buds” with Nantz. They worked together at CBS for years, and their accounts of the Masters were unforgettable.

One day Nantz and Venturi were hanging out in Southwest Florida. On their way back to Marco, they stopped for gas at an East Naples convenience store. It wasn’t until they got back home that they realized Nantz had unwittingly left his wallet on top of the gas pump. Venturi immediately phoned the store to tell them what had happened.

Amazingly, a man named Jesus (pronounced Hay-Soos) said he found Nantz’s wallet and that he would gladly return it, which he did. Venturi was so impressed that he called me at the paper to tell me he had a “good news” story.

The headline the next day was classic: “Jesus finds Nantz’s wallet at local gas station.”

You can only imagine the stir it caused at church that Sunday.