“Am … am I about to die?” I thought

I’ve done my best to distance myself from this day and the week that followed. But there’s a moment I keep returning to, when the ambulance makes a fierce left turn. I remember looking out the back window and seeing a two-story, cream stucco building with a red tile roof fading from view. I knew where we were, for that house is across the street from the local municipal golf course.

Until that day I didn’t think much of that muny, Brennan Golf Course. Its routing is odd, the conditioning is brutal and the rounds are slow. But at that moment I was happy to know it was there, because Brennan is next to the hospital. For an instant, after drowning in doubt and fear and unbearable discomfort, I was distracted.

[divider] [/divider]

Two months ago I would have told you golf is my passion. I play it, watch it, read it, write it, think it, breathe it. It’s what I do and defines who I am. There’s a good chance that description describes you, too. Golf has a tendency to do that.

Now? Now those sentiments still apply, mostly. Only the past two months have made golf into something more.

On the morning of September 8, I was preparing to walk my dog, a little long-haired, ball-of-rage chihuahua, when a crushing sensation radiated from the middle of my chest. I had a sleepless night, at one point moving to the living room in hopes a change of scenery would help. I figured that uncomfortable feeling was a strain from laying on the couch in an odd position. Or, hey, I had just turned 36. Maybe it was the pangs that come with aging. I shook it off, and the dog and I proceeded out the front door for our usual two-block stroll. I made it just 30 yards before turning around. With each step that crushing sensation worsened. By the time I returned to my couch it seemed like someone was attempting to embed a bowling ball in my sternum.

Over the past decade I had a number of similar episodes where I felt pressure around my heart, ranging from sore and achy to a stabbing intensity. However, every test, X-ray and ultrasound showed a healthy heart and lungs, so these incidents were chalked up to panic attacks. I never accepted this answer, not truly or fully. I didn’t feel anxious or overly worried, and couldn’t shake the idea something else was spurring these events. But there was no evidence of anything wrong. The pain, visceral as it felt, had to be in my head.

I told myself this over and over and over as I was bent over on the couch that morning. You’re fine. You’re FINE. Only I leaned back and, boy, I didn’t feel fine. I felt like I was going to collapse. I called my doctor’s office, located just three streets away, and told them I thought I was having a mean panic attack. I laboured into the building and must have looked like hell because I was immediately brought back and hooked up to an EKG.

It wasn’t the doctor’s expression, one I could read through her surgical mask, that signalled something was wrong. Nor was it the pitch in her voice when she called for EMTs and yelled to nurses to find aspirin now. These observations, obvious as they should have been, needed to be spelled out, which the doctor calmly did when I not-so-calmly asked what was up: “You may be having a heart attack.”

I sat frozen with electrodes uncomfortably hanging from my chest, those words too surreal to process, until two very nice men swooped in and placed me on a stretcher, rolling me out of the doctor’s office and into an ambulance en route to the hospital. When we reached the ER, I was lifted and placed on a cold, stainless-steel table as a dozen doctors and nurses converged on me like a pit crew. I was stripped down and shaved, a number of IVs and lines jabbed in my arms. “You’re where you need to be,” one doctor told me with confidence. “We’re going to act fast.” A cut was made on my right wrist, allowing the doctors to insert a flexible tube through the artery that would see where a potential blood clot was located. Through the crowd I could see my wife, who had been called from work by the doctor’s office. Next to her was a priest. Man, this really isn’t good. I was wheeled into another room, conscious but confused.

Space and time tend to stop when laying naked in a sterile room with strangers poking your body as your chest feels like it’s going to explode while staring directly into bright lights. I do remember thinking this predicament likely meant I was going to miss a tee time I had with my neighbour for the following day. I also remember praying. A lot. I prayed for the pain to stop. I prayed not to die. I prayed that if I did die for my wife to find happiness and strength to move on …

“Bridge! You see that, right there? It’s a bridge!”

The pit crew of doctors and nurses seemed relieved, and within a minute nearly all but two of them left the room. As I was beginning to think I was coming out on the business end of a brutally coordinated lunch break, the head doctor leaned in. “Good news, you’re not having a heart attack,” he said. “You have a heart defect. It’s the best possible outcome.”

The doctors discovered I had a myocardial bridge. It is a condition where a coronary artery tunnels through or under the heart rather than sitting on top of it. The defect is present at birth, but it doesn’t reveal itself on X-rays or echocardiograms or ultrasounds. In fact, it’s unknown how many people have a myocardial bridge since it’s only discovered through heart catheterisations (which is what I had done with the tube up my wrist) or, um, autopsies. That squeezing sensation I had was the heart “trapping” the artery. Why it hurt worse than usual this day was unclear, although low potassium and magnesium levels likely contributed to the magnified pain.

While it sounds serious, a myocardial bridge is relatively manageable and shouldn’t affect the quality of life. Eventually, some drugs kicked in and my chest pain subsided. I was taken to a private room and had several other tests administered, all coming back normal. I was kept in the hospital overnight for observation and released the next afternoon, a Friday. I would be taking beta blockers to help with blood flow to prevent similar trapping incidents going forward, but crisis, I thought, had been averted.

Has your love for golf ever been unhealthy? Not in an ironic, cheesy, “I played 45 holes this weekend because 36 wasn’t enough!” way, but in a manner that genuinely had an adversarial affect on your life? Because that was the question I chewed on that night in the hospital.

I wasn’t kidding when I said golf consumes me. I love that it does, and I’m lucky enough that I have a job that allows me to channel that spirit into my work. Yet, potassium and magnesium levels aside, I wondered if this incident was related to my career. On the list of stressful occupations “golf writer” ranks pretty low, but this year was filled with existential questions and fraught with a complicated schism made worse by some of the characters (and threats!) associated with it. Plus, the relentless cycle of writing for a website, paired with the fact that your work is always public, creates a type of pressure one might not expect from such a fun-sounding job. That pressure is a privilege, no doubt … but it is pressure. The last 15 years, that has been the life I’ve known.

I wondered if I needed to recalibrate how I viewed golf as a recreation, too. The spare time I did have was devoted to hitting balls or sneaking in an emergency nine. Same goes with reading golf literature. I loved these activities, but when you think you’re about to die you tend to evaluate if you’re making the most of life. I worried if totally ingratiating myself into one thing — thus blurring the line between work life and real life — was healthy.

The catheterisation meant I couldn’t use my right hand for some time, which meant no writing or playing. From a schedule standpoint it was a fortuitous respite. There was no professional golf that weekend and the next tour stop was the season opener in Napa, an event I wasn’t heartbroken over missing. Forget answering email or checking the company’s Slack channel; I promised myself not to watch or read or listen to anything about golf because the temptation would be too great to somehow bring it back to work. To do this right I needed a cleanse. For the first time in what felt like forever I would be unplugged from the game.

The first night at home was rough. Two hours of sleep, generously. It wasn’t unexpected. My chest was sore — I was told my heart was racing at 150 beats per minute in the ambulance — and I had to lie awkwardly in order to stabilise my right wrist. But I figured I could grab a few naps over the weekend and be right by Monday morning. Only in spite of feeling emotionally and physically spent, I couldn’t doze off on Saturday. Not during the day, not into the night. Not one single hour of sleep.

Sunday I felt like a zombie. Remember, I hadn’t slept the day before this mess started, and the night in the hospital wasn’t exactly a peaceful snooze. I started to physically feel sick from being so alertly awake. It felt like I had 20 venti lattes surging through my veins, except I hadn’t had coffee in days. When the sun went down on Sunday night and reappeared Monday morning I remained up. I went to a general practitioner on Monday morning, this time with my wife in tow. I hadn’t slept in four of the past five nights. Forget zombified, at this juncture I was having trouble moving. My appetite was shot, and what I did manage to get down didn’t stay for very long. Everything hurt. I relayed this to the doctor, asking if there was any chance the beta blockers were causing insomnia. I was sent home with more medicine. And it was one thing that my chest remained on fire and my head was thumping and my body throbbed, but now it felt like my psyche was under attack, the insinuation being this was all in my mind and I needed to toughen up. In reality it already took so much strength just to keep going.

Not helping matters was I no longer had my outlet. When I would normally feel cooped up or burdened I would hit a few buckets at the driving range. Even if I wanted to break my golf sabbatical I couldn’t, still too weak to grip a club. Same goes with putting on my basement green. Suddenly this happening on one of the few PGA Tour off-weeks didn’t seem so serendipitous. Days before I was worried golf was distracting me from other things in life and now would have done anything to have that problem back.

I was up until 4am that Monday night/Tuesday morning, and somewhere between 4-to-6 I got some shut-eye because it was the only stretch I didn’t see the clock on my phone staring back at me. I had an early appointment, this time with the cardiologist for a follow-up, and renewed my questions about the beta blocker. The cardiologist replied in the affirmative, that insomnia can be a side effect of the drug. He recommended I shelf it until getting the sleep under control. I felt heard. Probably because I had been seen: the mirror reflected the image of a haggard, ghostly figure, a person I did not recognise, yet knew was me.

Another sleepless night followed. I thought this could be the beta blocker working its way out of my system. I think. Who knows. For the life of me, what life I had left in me … I could not sleep.

At that point I envisioned the worst, and the rumblings it would cause. “Yeah, did you hear how he went? Sleep deprivation. I didn’t know you could die like that, either.”

It had been a week since I was rushed to the hospital and now I was somehow in worse shape, failing to sleep in six of the previous seven nights. That day, Wednesday, September 14, my wife and I were hosting a prayer group from our church. Despite the state I was in we had people over; I figured, well, if I’m about to die, probably not the worst thing to get an extra Bible study in. Before the group departed for the night I asked our pastor if he could pray for me. At the time I wish I could say it was because I solely believed in the power of faith. Truth be told, it was because I was broken. I did not know where else to go. The pastor and the group prayed over me. If it sounds weird that a group of people would pray for someone to get sleep, know it was just as weird to ask. When the meeting departed, I told my wife I was going upstairs to see if it worked, tucking myself into bed and closing my eyes.

When I opened them it was light out. I checked my phone. It was 7am I was out for nine hours.

I went into the shower, and cried.

I felt armed with science and faith, but to make sure this sleep wasn’t an aberration — to put the past week into the past and keep it there — I needed to do my part. In the honest, sober reflection of morning, whatever harm the beta blockers were doing wasn’t helped by my own anxiety. It was a vicious self-fulfilling prophecy: I wasn’t sleeping, I would get agitated why I wasn’t sleeping, I would catastrophise what it could mean, repeat. I needed something to take my mind off things.

I needed golf.

To hell with unplugging. Like a McDonald’s salad it was good in name only. I decided to do the opposite and lean into my love for the game. I just had to love it differently.

I had grown accustomed to viewing the sport through the prism of a scribe. I didn’t consume it for myself; I consumed it with the thought of contextualising what I had seen and heard and observed and felt for a larger audience. In that lens, every round, every tournament, every win is framed as a validation or statement of some sort. They are all pieces to a larger puzzle. Fans can have that outlook, too, which I get, because knowing the touchstones of a journey makes for a richer, more compelling story. But now I wondered if we are in such a rush to see that bigger picture we don’t appreciate the individual pieces for themselves.

Max Homa

When Max Homa won the Fortinet Championship, I didn’t try to arrive at some broader storyline about what it said about Homa the player and where that player might be going. I appreciated it for what it was, which was a shocking, dramatic finish. That’s how I watched the Presidents Cup, too. Maybe Tom Kim really is the next big thing. If he isn’t, so what? Because I can’t tell you how much fun I had watching him have fun, and not once did I extrapolate what it could mean for his trajectory. They might not be pieces to a larger puzzle. Sometimes it’s just golf, something to keep your mind off real life. That sounds like a knock, but it’s a pretty damn good compliment.

I went back and watched the final rounds from this year’s majors. I covered all four on-site yet watching their broadcasts revealed how, at times, I was blind or ignorant to smaller moments that in reality stood large. When Mito Pereira’s alligator-armed swing sent his ball and hopes into that creek at Southern Hills, I was too worried about preparing for a likely playoff that I missed Pereira’s expression, a look that said he knew this might be the only chance he’d ever get and that chance was now gone. At Brookline I was with a group of writers less than 15 yards away from Matt Fitzpatrick’s final approach from that bunker. Then I was too focused on his lie and the precarious position he was in; now I focused on Fitzpatrick’s eyes, which belied a conviction that was the undercurrent for such an audacious play. In April I laughed at Scottie Scheffler’s struggles with his bubble vest, yet on rewind it was a reminder that the guy who had looked so robotic in dismantling Augusta National was, indeed, human. Somehow, the broadcast failed to do justice to the rapport between Rory McIlroy and the crowds at St Andrews, for that week he not just entertained but galvanised those that followed and they in turn returned the favour.

I had marvelled so much at what these players were able to do that I was forgetting about the person who was doing the performing.

TV wasn’t the only storyteller. Because the only thing I had the strength to do for a month was walk, I took my dog for long treks three or more times a day, and most of those times I would fire up a golf podcast. I read all the feature pieces I saved from competitors that I never had time for in the spring and summer. I devoured Michael Bamberger’s “To the Linksland” and a number of James Finegan books, and heroically tried and desperately failed to get through “Golf in the Kingdom”.

Impressive, educational and entertaining as all the different avenues were, and successful as they were at keeping my attention diverted, the most cathartic story was delivered at the driving range.

About three weeks after the hospital visit I was driving to the pharmacy when I decided to make a detour to Sterling Farms, the other muny in town. I still couldn’t swing a club, but, well … I missed the range. I missed the feeling of hitting a perfect draw after fighting a hook the previous five attempts. Missed being alone with others, that often-unsaid acknowledgement from strangers when you glance up from your stance and see someone else doing the same. I missed the voice over the loudspeaker asking the upper deck bays to stop hitting drivers over the net, a message that is always ignored. When I parked myself on a bench I expected those feelings to come back.

Instead, I was struck by two things. The first was how cool it is that one game can speak to so many different folks of different ages and backgrounds. Seriously, you don’t exactly see grandmas working on their basketball jumpers next to middle-schoolers on the playground. The second was a bit more profound. To me the range had always been synonymous with work, improvement. Trying to squeeze a few more yards out of the 3-wood. Trying to flight the 7-iron through the right window. Trying to dial in your wedges. Trying. Thing is, I always had my head down at the range so I never truly saw what others were doing, and on this day I didn’t see any trying. What I saw were people doing their best to wail away at highlighter-colored golf balls and fully immersed in the task. The belief that amateurs shouldn’t predicate their enjoyment off scores or shots is not new, but something that day — watching ball after ball after ball after ball sail, and sometimes shank, into the sky without an outcome attached to its destination — rooted a principle deep in my subconscious.

I had always viewed golf as a demon that can never be caught, its joy found not in its capture but in its pursuit. To an extent that is true, or can be true. It’s fun to shoot lower scores, to better your best, to work towards a goal. But at its essence, golf doesn’t need to be chased. It wants to be caught. All it takes is seeing it for what it is, a game. And games are meant to be enjoyed.

I had gained perspective, and unlike a tour pro I didn’t need to have a baby to get it.

Beall returned to the course in October, but plays now with a different perspective on the game. Ben Walton

Since that week from hell my life has stabilised. Progression hasn’t been linear. There were plenty of bad days, mainly from battling some nasty side effects from medicines that are now part of my daily routine. I lost close to 20 lbs and haven’t gained it back. But I’m sleeping well, I’ve levelled out, I feel confident about the plans I’m on and where they should take me.

Lest I give you the wrong idea, golf wasn’t the only thing I did over the downtime. I read a ton of Patrick Radden Keefe and contributed to a friend’s book project. I watched football and “Parks and Recreation” and Stanley Tucci’s tour through Italy. On some of those long walks I made it a point to listen to nothing at all in order to appreciate the autumn foliage in all her glory. I’m trying to build and diversify my interests, attempting new things for both adventure and appreciation of what I already know to be good.

Yet, if there is a main element, what got me from there to here, it was golf.

My relationship with it has changed. I’ve been able to play a few times since I regained the use of my right wrist, and lost count of how many range visits I’ve made. I still want to improve my game, to shoot the lowest scores that I can. But those are distant aspirations that are not allowed to contradict the simple comfort of getting to swing a club. Appreciation has to be practised, and when I’m at the range now, that’s what I’m doing, not focusing on my takeaway or hip action but realising how good I’ve got it.

I’m back to work, trying to infuse more joy and colour and life into what I write. I still take what I do seriously, but I’ve been covering it with the delight I think a reader would have if we swapped places. I still marvel at the players, yet am more enchanted with what it says about them as people. Adam Svensson won the RSM Classic with a final-round 64, yet it was the Canadian coming undone afterwards — knowing the bet he had made on himself had finally paid off — that will stick with me longer than any shot he hit.

At the end of each day, I make a point to remind myself how lucky I am to do what I do.

Part of me thinks saying golf saved me is hyperbolic and blasphemous. It’s a disservice to my wife and parents, to my faith. Those people and that power did the hard work. And yet we all have our callings, and I hear mine loud and clear. Golf is what I do, and it defines who I am. I just didn’t know it could be something more. Despite how I found out, I’m thankful that I did.

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The post I thought I was dying. How golf kept me going appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

It was a (very) long day with a 3am start in native Texas for the golfer who was raised in Dubai. And, after the long haul from home, the bright lights of NY gave a real sample of the city that never sleeps.

McKee aims to secure her LPGA card for 2023 in Q-School this autumn — following her decision to turn professional this summer. The 22-year-old graduated from New Mexico State University this summer as part of their famed ‘Aggies’ golf team.

Following her safe negotiation of Q-School 1 in August, she is a step closer to achieving her life-long dream of teeing it up with the best in the game on the LPGA.

Now ahead of Q2, thanks to an invitation from Golf Saudi, she will take part in the pro-am at Ferry Point, New York, as the LET season reaches its climax.

Speaking directly to Golf Digest Middle East, Amelia had an (exhausting) tale to tell as she took her first take of the Big Apple, having travelled from her home in Texas.

“This city is incredible. It’s far different than what I’m used to,” she said. “I don’t come from the middle of nowhere, by any means, but I also don’t come from anywhere near ‘city life’. It is busy, busy, busy.

“Everywhere I look, there is something going on. My parents and I took a tour bus, we rode the Subway, visited the World Trade Center memorial, and got to meet Tiger Woods at Madame Tussauds.

“We saw street performers , and it seems like no one stops moving here.”As a golfer, I have seen a lot of places in my life, but I am so grateful to Golf Saudia and the Aramco Team Series for this opportunity. Now I can take New York off my bucket list.

After such an early start from Texas, it was a long day (4am-10pm), so now I will get a good sleep. Can’t wait to play some golf in the morning, and be a part of this awesome event.”

For the pro-am, Amelia will be playing alongside US Solheim Cup 2023 vice-captain Natalie Gulbis, who famously won the Evian Championship in 2007.

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The post Touchdown: Dubai’s Amelia McKee takes a bite of the Big Apple ahead of Aramco Team Series — New York appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

DUBAI- January 28: With Golf Digest Middle East celebrating its 150th issue in January, the future of the global game – and the region’s increasingly influential place within it – has fittingly never been more fascinating.

 The title’s sesquicentennial edition focuses on the rapidly evolving power play for the professional game, including the roles that the freshly-minted DP World Tour (formerly European Tour), the Asian Tour, and the also Saudi-financed LIV Golf Investments are playing in the ever-changing landscape.

To mark the milestone, the Motivate Media Group title has become the world’s first Arabic language golf magazine. Not since the Royal and Ancient game first met grass in the Middle East with the opening of Emirates Golf Club’s Majlis course in 1989, has the game here enjoyed a more influential, or culturally appropriate, moment.

It is a particularly poignant moment for His Excellency Yasir Al-Rumayyan, the Chairman of both Golf Saudi and the Saudi Golf Federation since 2018. 

“Following my recent appointment as President of the Arab Golf Federation, these are just the type of initiatives I want to support in my new role,” said H.E. Al-Rumayyan

His Excellency Yasir Al-Rumayyan, Chairman of both Golf Saudi and the Saudi Golf Federation.

“I am a passionate golfer and therefore I want to introduce this great game to as many people as possible in the Middle East. So, by now having an Arabic language resource which can provide regular updates to an entirely new audience, I am confident that Golf Digest can play its part in growing participation in our game here in the region.”

They are sentiments echoed by Majed Al Sorour, the CEO of Golf Saudi and Deputy Chairman of the Saudi Golf Federation.

“It’s great to see the inaugural Arabic issue of Golf Digest published in both print and digital. In my roles not only in Saudi Arabia but also as Secretary General of the Arab Golf Federation, I want to support golf’s growth in new markets, particularly the Middle East and I want to work together with other stakeholders to showcase the game’s many benefits to new Arabic audiences. This magazine will help us do exactly that.”

Majed Al Sorour, CEO of Golf Saudi and Deputy Chairman of the Saudi Golf Federation.

Ian Fairservice, Motivate Media Group Managing Partner & Group Editor-in-Chief, is proud of the multi-media company’s ongoing contribution to the growth of the game across the Middle East. 

“The first edition of Golf Digest Middle East was published before the launch of the Race to Dubai in 2009 and the title, along with others in the Motivate Media Group stable, has proudly partnered the golf industry on the incredible journey the game has taken in the Middle East ever since,” Fairservice said.

“Golf Saudi’s emergence as a true force in the game, in the region and beyond, has been a huge part of the story in recent years and we’re proud to enhance the Kingdom’s golf journey with the world’s first Arabic golf title. It illustrates our commitment to helping Golf Saudi grow the game in what is undoubtedly the most progressive new golf market in the world.”

Scroll the historic issue in this browser or download it for FREE HERE and to stay up to date with all the latest developments, from the alignment of the regional developmental MENA Tour with the Asian Tour, to the DP World Tour-PGA Tour alliance fighting traditions’ corner against the Greg Norman-front LIV Golf.  

The post Golf Digest proudly becomes world’s first Arabic language golf magazine appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

Former Golf Digest colleagues reflect on one of the giants of golf journalism

Tim Rosaforte’s death at age 66 due to complications from Alzheimer’s Disease will reverberate throughout the golf world, where he was beloved by players, reporters and golf fans. As a senior writer at Golf Digest and sister publication Golf World for more than 20 years, Tim’s pioneering work and gentle spirit left a singular imprint on his colleagues. Below we’ve shared some reflections on one of the giants of our brand—and our game.

•  •  •

The image I hold of Tim is arriving at the press centre in the morning with his freshly pressed suit and tie on a hanger and a broad smile on his face. Nobody loved what he did more than Tim Rosaforte.

There was also a vulnerability in Tim’s demeanour that’s so rare among “TV people.” He had a touch of uncertainty about himself that was endearing and believable. I think it had to do with his years at a weekly sports magazine, getting put through the grinder of the editing process. It made him empathetic to the struggles we all have in work and life.

Everybody trusted Tim. It’s why he had everybody’s cell number and everybody called him back. You knew he was going to give you a fair shake. And when he got the unfairest shake of all, he still met life with a smile on his face and gratefulness in his heart. —Jerry Tarde

•  •  •

When I first started working at Golf Digest, of course all my friends and family asked if I knew Tim Rosaforte. He was the ubiquitous face of the magazine on TV as well as our prolific columnist. All I could tell them was that “Rosie” existed in a different orbit. The editors and writers I worked with sat at desk computers, dressed ready to hightail it out of the office should a golf game break out. Tim wore perfectly fitted suits with poppy ties and travelled in another world.

The first time I met Tim was at my first PGA Tour event. He was walking smartly from one appointment to the next as I was loitering by the practice putting green bedraggled with a notebook and backpack. I was astonished as he pulled not one, not two, but three cellphones from the inner breast pockets of his blazer. This was the era of Blackberries and flip-phones, so not insignificant cargo as far as bulk. “These are my tools,” he told me. “Never be without your tools.” A point he was trying to impress was, he’d noticed my writing style but believed I could do more as a reporter. He couldn’t have been more right. I hung with him some more that week and could hardly believe all the pros who texted him first. He had built up unrivalled trust by knowing which scoops to sit on.

A former football player, I bet he was the guy who could command a huddle with a whisper. Every word Tim said you hung on, and he always had an encouraging few for the young guys on the staff. I was lucky to eventually get to know Tim much better, and I’ll try to perpetuate his many lessons to the next generation of writers. —Max Adler

Rosaforte in blustery weather

•  •  •

A story about Tim Rosaforte being kind to a young person in golf is on its own pretty unremarkable because Tim was kind to so many people in golf. There was a time when he had little incentive to do so that he was incredibly kind to me.

The setting was the 1997 Walker Cup at Quaker Ridge Golf Club in Scarsdale, N.Y. I was 22 and covering the event for the local newspaper, and Tim was there for Golf World. In his never-ending search for nuggets of information, Tim read a story I wrote and apparently liked it enough to walk up and introduce himself. A friendship was born. We learned we had grown up near one another and that at one point we both had the same gruff newspaper editor. For years after, Tim would send me notes with either compliments or story ideas; when a job opportunity opened at Golf Digest, I breathlessly called Tim asking for his help. He cut me off. “I already spoke to them,” he said.

I don’t know if Tim was the sole reason I got the job, but he was one of the main reasons I was encouraged to pursue a career in golf journalism. He was my first great mentor, a model for how to navigate the golf world with kindness and grace. —Sam Weinman

•  •  •

Contrary to what you might believe in this day of talking heads, those in print journalism do not naturally transition to television, not without losing or literally throwing away—in ways small and sometimes grotesque—the skills and attitudes that made them admirable in their original journalistic pursuit. As I observed Tim Rosaforte’s easy nature on the small screen from afar, what struck me most was how unchanged not only his abilities to cultivate sources and tell stories were, but so too, more impressively, his demeanour. If there was a simple way to describe his craft, it wasn’t getting scoops, it was giving them. Rosie shared, whether it was a profile of a particular player, breaking news of a coach’s insight before a final round or an open invitation for a round of golf at any club in South Florida, where he always seemed to have an in. But personally, even though I knew he was such a deservedly large figure in the small world of golf journalism, Rosie never wavered in our personal dealings from making me feel like I was the one with all the knowledge and he was the one who wanted to learn more. It’s that genuine inquisitiveness, always with a smile that was boyish despite his shaved head, that obviously made him such a trusted writer among a collection of sources that was unrivaled. But as someone who’s never been particularly comfortable on the video side of this job, Rosie’s easy nature always found a way to lighten my anxiety those times our paths crossed at Golf Channel or similar segments across the years. He once told me, less than a minute before going live, “Remember, you know what you know. That’s a lot. Just talk about what you know. Do you.” Then, that grin, and everything after that was easy. He was unfailingly honest, generous, encouraging. That’s how I’ll remember him because that’s who he was. —Mike Stachura

My first job in golf media was as a reporter/fact-checker for Sports Illustrated’s then-new Golf Plus section. Tim was new, too—not to golf journalism, but to SI. He had just been hired to write many of the game and industry stories that packed the Tiger-fattened weekly special section. We were both on the biggest stage for the first time, and we became fast friends and allies navigating SI’s notoriously cutthroat political landscape. Tim was a relentless and meticulous reporter with an enormous collection of sources. My job was to make sure his copy made it through SI’s protracted editing process with his carefully reported facts still in place—so he could maintain the trust of those sources. He didn’t have to spend the extra time teaching a relative beginner the art (and hard labor) of building relationships, finding the real story and telling the truth, but to know Tim was to be the beneficiary of his motiveless generosity and legendarily straight shooting. It was an honour to be on the same masthead with him for more than 20 years. —Matthew Rudy

•  •  •

I first met Tim at the 1988 Masters and first played golf with him at The Belfry in England the Monday after the 1993 Ryder Cup. He set up the tee time. It was one of the many ways Tim shared his bountiful contacts in the world of golf. From the beginning, Rosie made it easy to get to know him because of the gentle, gracious way he interacted with people. He invited you into his world and generously shared what he knew and who he knew. When we started working together at Golf Digest and Golf World in 1998, my appreciation of that giving nature in Tim only deepened. As a journalistic colleague, he played the game the same way he played college football—as a true teammate.

Jim Gund
Rosaforte talking to Davis Love III in his RV shortly after he won the 2003 Players Championship.

Rosie and I had another bond right off the bat. I always viewed myself as more of a reporter than a writer and the same was true for Tim. The part of journalism he loved was gathering information, finding out the why and the how of something or somebody. Few were as good at it as Tim. His phone contained everyone’s number and because he never burned anyone by betraying their confidence or by misrepresenting what they said, everyone always called him back. And that’s the bottom line. Rosie was so good at what he did because of the respectful way he treated people. In a time of tremendous change in the news business, Tim Rosaforte was one of the people who gave journalism a good name. —Ron Sirak

•  •  •

Tim was a football linebacker in college, which starts to explain how he became the best at what I call “high testosterone” golf writers. He transferred some of the brash writing and TV reporting styles you see in more physical sports to golf. He viewed the game as athletes and fans of other sports would. Tim’s golf takes were peppered with phrases like, “needs to step up,” “gut check,” “prime-time player” and “close the deal.” Courses like Oakmont he called, “big ballparks.” Tim’s approach seeped into the styles of other writers, young ones at the outset of the digital age especially. It was a counterpoint to the more traditional, genteel writing, and it stuck. Tim treated golf like a passion but not a religion, and his influence is everywhere in golf reporting today.

He was easy to know and had a million friends. At a tournament one day in the early 1990s, he asked what I was up to and I answered off-handedly, “hunting big game.” I’d been trying to arrange a long interview with Greg Norman—no easy feat back then—and had borrowed a phrase frequently used by Muhammad Ali’s famous trainer and cornerman, Drew (Bundini) Brown, when Ali was pursuing another title shot. Tim’s ears perked and from then on he addressed me as, Big Game. I called him Big Game right back and it became our standard greeting. A lot of people at lunch tables wondered what we were talking about, but they could tell we were good friends.

Tim had the most killer Rolodex in golf. Players, caddies, agents, administrators, club owners and assorted golf tycoons, all liked and respected him, and he had most of them on speed dial. Most of us were jealous of his contacts list and how readily his calls were returned. There are no shortcuts to how he achieved that. Tim for 40 years was dedicated, trustworthy, honest and fair. He was Big Game in every way. —Guy Yocom

•  •  •

Count me among the legion of young reporters who will never be able to thank Tim Rosaforte enough for being there as I got started in golf writing. I’d been assigned the amateur beat at Golf Digest’s sister publication, Golf World, and my boss, Geoff Russell, said it might be smart to go to Florida and meet with Tim during the week of the Coleman Invitational, a high-profile mid-amateur event just up the road from Rosie’s home in Palm Beach Gardens. The idea was for him to introduce me to a few people who I could then call to help with our amateur coverage. I’d heard about Tim’s impressive network of sources, but I got to witness his famed Rolodex come to life as he connected me to dozens of influential golf industry folks during an evening at Seminole Golf Club. As I was leaving, I thanked him for what he had done, but by the time I’d gotten back home to Connecticut, Tim had left a voice mail message with a few more names and numbers he thought I should have just in case. That was Tim, always looking out for others. From then on, he and I would talk often about golf and writing. It made me feel better knowing that a journalist as successful as Tim had the same insecurities over his writing that I did and that, just like me, he wrestled with concerns about being on the road and away from family, too. Seeing how he juggled all his assignments gave me comfort that it was all doable. I wasn’t the most important person in Rosaforte’s Rolodex, but when we talked, he always made me feel that way. —Ryan Herrington

•  •  •

I first met and worked alongside Tim in the late 1990s, before I even started at Golf Digest. I was a young golf reporter just trying not to trip over the gallery ropes, but Tim quickly made me feel part of the gang covering the PGA Tour—the golf hacks. I always appreciated how he treated me as an equal, while we both knew I clearly wasn’t. Later, I edited Tim’s “Tour Insider” column for a number of years at Golf Digest. Most people think of Tim as a dogged reporter, but it always struck me how bonded he was to every word he wrote. He would know in an instant if I changed something in his column, and we spent many phone conversations debating even the most subtle edits. It wasn’t a job for him; it was personal. —Ron Kaspriske

•  •  •

We never lost a golf match.

Tim Rosaforte and I became friends long before we became colleagues at Golf Digest because we shared the distinction of being among a handful of writers who had developed a relationship with golf great Jack Nicklaus—his starting with his time covering golf for the Palm Beach Post and mine via my Ohio newspaper ties. We enjoyed the connection, and we revelled in the stories we could tell each other about this or that meeting with Jack. We compared notes. We understood the privilege.

But what made us close was the golf we got to play together. Like I said, we never lost. Whether it was a $10 game against other writers while we were out on the road or as teammates in a few “official” matches, Tim and I never lost a four-ball match.

The game that cemented our invincibility—or at least our belief in it—came in 2004 at Birmingham Country Club, near Detroit, when we were representing the United States in the Rolex “Writer’s Cup,” a match held before that year’s Ryder Cup at Oakland Hills. We were a couple of 8 handicaps, and we drew two Brits, one playing to a 3 handicap and the other a 15. Long story short, the 15 played like a 3, and Tim and I were 3 down at the turn. We were dead. And then we weren’t. Somehow, we rallied, and after I won the 17th, we had tied the match. Then I promptly hit my drive on 18 out of play. Tim coolly went fairway, green, putt … birdie. And we won the darn thing, 1 up. We actually hugged. We knew we were somehow magic together. And that was our thing whenever we saw each other.

I always told Tim this: He was easy to play with because he was easy to be with. And his kindness radiated in everything he did. So he brought out the best in me a lot of times, whether on the golf course or in some faraway media centre.

Even the last time I saw him, at the 2020 Honda Classic, as we sat together in the lunchroom, there was just a brief exchange about what made our friendship unique, that singular thread that always tied us together.

“We never lost, did we?” he said to me, grinning, as I was about to get up to leave.

“No, we never did,” I said, and then we exchanged a fist bump.

And we shall forever be undefeated. —Dave Shedloski

•  •  •

I’ll never forget what a dogged reporter Tim was—and how much he cared about helping others getting the story right as well. I believe it was my first time covering the Players Championship in 2011 when he stopped by in the media centre. He was always in and out doing TV, but he wanted to make sure I was all set up and to ask what I was working on. When I mentioned something about Tim Clark, he started feeding me information. And when he looked in his backpack for some of his notecards, he handed me one of his two phones. I swear that thing didn’t stop vibrating for more than a second with texts and emails from his legendary list of contacts. It was amazing. But that’s why he was so good at his job. He never stopped working at it. And as much as he knew about something, he always kept digging for more. What a great guy, and what a great role model for any aspiring writer. —Alex Myers

•  •  •

I worked with Tim as a researcher on Morning Drive before joining Golf Digest. Every morning, he would walk into the newsroom at 4 a.m. with the biggest grin on his face. He’d shout, “Hey Rae!” and give me a fist bump before handing me a laundry list of stats and facts he’d need for the show. He always wanted to make sure he got it right. Integrity was the epitome of his reporting, but that’s just who Rosie was. He was kind to every person he came across and always made an effort to ask how you were. You couldn’t find a person who wasn’t a fan of Tim Rosaforte. He made every show, every day and every one better. —Nicole Rae

•  •  •

I’ve known Tim probably since the mid-‘80s, and my best memory of him was from the 1994 U.S. Amateur at the TPC Sawgrass. Tim was there for Sports Illustrated, I was there for the Orange County Register, and our third, Larry Dorman, was there for the New York Times. Tim saw to it that we made time for golf—the three of us played 72 holes in three days on the Valley Course there (while the amateur was being played on the Stadium Course). Temperatures in the 90s or higher, with matching humidity. Sweating like dogs. Yet we didn’t miss a beat. Later on, when we were colleagues at Golf World, he saw to it that we played golf together on Kapalua’s Bay Course during the Tournament of Champions. Tim was the all-time best at setting up golf on business trips, yet the work never suffered. —John Strege

•  •  •

​​There’s so much about Tim to talk about that it’s difficult to know where to start. There’s the obvious: his talent and tenacity. Always sticking to the facts over sensationalism. Always making the extra phone call or text. He was fantastic as both a writer and reporter and a television personality. While probably known for the latter, he didn’t really fancy himself as a TV star but rather a reporter who happened to be on TV. Tim was also an unmatched colleague, always willing to help out. The times he got me quotes from players about their equipment when I wasn’t on site was invaluable. He also wasn’t protective of his extensive contact list. At the 2009 Open Championship, I was asked to try and get in touch with Greg Norman to get his thoughts about Tom Watson contending a year after Norman had done so. I asked Tim for an assist. “Greg’s calling you in 10 minutes,” Tim let me know literally less than five minutes after I asked. His humility for someone so successful also was striking. He was never a “Hey, look at me!” guy. Instead, he preferred to prop up others. At the 2006 Masters he was doing a TV spot. He said he was going to call me to talk about Phil Mickelson using two drivers. As I get on the phone, I hear Tim say, “If you’re going to go to the bullpen, you might as well call in the Mariano Rivera of equipment.” That was typical Rosie. A Ruthian figure in our profession. —E. Michael Johnson

•  •  •

As a young Golf Digest staffer, I got the chance to work with Rosie on a number of smaller projects. I’ll never forget how he went out of his way to thank me for my help. A hearty hello when I saw him at tournaments; an email or a text of encouragement—those small things go a long way when you’re starting out. I’ll always remember him taking a phone call from me when I was asking for his professional advice even after he left Golf Digest. He treated me like a friend, and I’ll always think of him as one. —Stephen Hennessey

In my 20 years of being around Tim in golf media centres, the thing I’ll remember most is how he could work a room. In the latter years of his career, while working for Golf Channel, he’d go to the veterans on the beat to cull tidbits about players they were close to. My guy was Phil Mickelson. He was “using” us in his own way—as we all do with our reporting brethren—but he did it so professionally, and with such good nature, that it never once bothered me. In fact, I felt honoured, because he was the ultimate pro’s pro. —Tod Leonard

•  •  •

The 2015 PGA Championship was my first big event for Golf Digest and I was nervous as hell not to screw it up. So imagine how I felt Monday morning at Whistling Straits when I had been on the grounds for less than 10 minutes and got berated by a security guard for stepping somewhere I wasn’t supposed to step. As I felt my body shutting down from embarrassment I managed to mutter, “Can you tell me where the driving range is?” Before the guard could respond I heard, “I’m going there now, follow me.”

I was so new to the golf scene that he didn’t realize we worked for the same company. That didn’t stop Tim from escorting me to the practice area, peppering me with questions about who I was and what I did, giving me a few tips (“You can’t be afraid to piss a few people off”), and introducing me to a handful of folks when we got to the range with “Meet my new friend” before leaving to do a TV hit. It may seem like a simple gesture, but when you get Tim’s blessing, you are instantly a made man.

Unfortunately, I did not have many face-to-face interactions with Tim after that. We would run into each other at majors, usually only for a few minutes, although minutes that I cherished for every second. But what he did for me that week at Whistling Straits—bringing an outsider out of the cold and making him feel warm—is a debt I will forever owe. —Joel Beall

•  •  •

When I was hired at Golf Digest in 2017, the great Tim Rosaforte was approaching the end of his time here. Fortunately, I had the pleasure of speaking with him once at the 2017 Northern Trust at Glen Oaks, though our conversation was over the phone. Rosaforte had gotten my number from my boss, Sam Weinman, and he was calling to ask if I could grab a quote from Justin Thomas for an upcoming piece he was writing. This task immediately became my life mission. Here was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, golf insiders ever asking the low man on the totem pole at Golf Digest to grab a valuable piece of information for him. The fact he trusted me with that task is still a moment I think about to this day, and I’m happy to report I did come through for him. Two months later, at the Presidents Cup at Liberty National, we crossed paths again, this time in person, and Rosaforte remembered exactly who I was despite our only previous correspondence being that short telephone conversation from a few months earlier. As good of a reporter as he was, he was that much better of a human. —Chris Powers

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By Dave Shedloski
Tim Rosaforte, a senior writer at Golf Digest for more than 20 years and a former Golf Channel broadcaster, died Tuesday of complications from Alzheimer’s Disease in Palm Beach Gardens, Fla., according to longtime family friend Craig Dolch. He was 66 years old.

Born Oct. 25, 1955, in Mount Kisco, N.Y., Rosaforte began his career in journalism in 1977 at the Tampa Times after graduating with a journalism degree from the University of Rhode Island, where he played linebacker on the football team. He wrote for three other Florida newspapers before joining Sports Illustrated in 1994. Two years later, he was hired as a senior writer for sister publications Golf World and Golf Digest, and he remained on the staff of Golf Digest until 2018.

He won more than 40 writing awards and was the author of three books.

Rosaforte’s television career began in 2003 as co-host of USA Network’s “PGA Tour Sunday” program, and in 2007 he joined Golf Channel as a contributor while also appearing on NBC Sports during coverage of its major golf events, including the U.S. Open and Ryder Cup. He retired in 2020 after being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

In a statement Tuesday, PGA Tour Commissioner Jay Monahan said, “The PGA Tour family lost a friend today in Tim Rosaforte, one of the great golf journalists of his generation. Tim was an amazing storyteller and spent much of his energy showcasing what sets golf apart from other sports—the people and the personalities.

“A true professional, Tim always treated our organisation and our athletes fairly, writing and speaking with an opinion, but without an agenda. He never stopped working the phones, ensuring that he not only got the story first, he got the story right, Those phone calls—and Tim’s gentle spirit—will be missed tremendously by all of us lucky enough be a part of the greater golf community.”

“Tim developed relationships and trust from so many in the game, and you always know that if there was an important story to be told in golf, Tim was going to be the first call you received and usually the first one to report it,” Jack Nicklaus said last year after Rosaforte received the Memorial Golf Journalism Award at Nicklaus’ Memorial Tournament in Dublin, Ohio.

A past president of the Golf Writers Association of America, Rosaforte covered more than 150 major championships. He received the PGA Lifetime Achievement Award in Journalism in 2014, and in 2020 he was awarded an honorary membership in the PGA of America, making him the first journalist and just the 12th person ever to earn such a distinction. In 2021, The Honda Classic, the PGA Tour stop in Palm Beach Gardens, Fla., created the Tim Rosaforte Distinguished Service Award and dedicated its media room in his name.

Rosaforte is survived by his wife Genevieve and two daughters, Genna and Molly, and three grandchildren.

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We ask Asian Tour CEO and Tour Commissioner Cho Minn Thant how LIV Golf Investment’s $200 million, 10-year investment will be a game-changer for a circuit that has quickly shed its “younger brother” inferiority complex.

The European Tour is now the DP World Tour and we sit down with the Dubai-based ports operator and global trade enabler to get a handle on where they see their title-sponsorship taking the sport.

Golf Saudi has become a major player in the global men’s game via their LIV Golf Investment link. But this month Golf Saudi chairman H.E. Yasir O. Al-Rumayyan is focused on the Kingdom’s investment in the Ladies European Tour with an insightful review of the inaugural Aramco Team Series.

Back to the DP World Tour, we count down to the Slync.io Dubai Desert Classic by profiling U.S. collegiate star Sam Bennett, and head to Japan which is set to become the 51st country to host an event on the Old World Circuit.

All this and much more in the Dec. 2021 edition of Golf Digest Middle East. Look out for LPGA Tour star Danielle Kang on the cover.

The issue is again free to our loyal audience. You can scroll through the ISSUU link provided or download the bumper Dec. 2021 issue FREE to your favourite device for later. Alternatively, pick up a copy at your favourite club. Whatever option you take, we hope you enjoy the read.

The post Get the December 2021 issue of Golf Digest Middle East FREE today! appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

In the November edition of Golf Digest Middle East, we preview the European Tour’s season-ending Dubai doubleheader and ask what happens next for the Old World circuit after the seemingly stop-gap AVIV Dubai Championship and the traditional DP World Tour Championship climax. Especially now Greg Norman’s ambitious global plans with Asian Tour links have officially emerged.

In addition to the excitement and question marks at Jumeirah Golf Estates, we meet Claude Harmon III at The Els Club, Dubai to understand the takeaway move that makes Billy Horschel not only a leading R2D contender but one of the best ball strikers in the modern game.

Emily Kristine Pedersen helps us preview Saudi’s LET doubleheader and who better; the great Dane scooped all the silverware available in King Abdullah Economic City last year.

Join us at Dubai Creek Golf & Yacht Club and Abu Dhabi Golf Club to preview this month’s Asia Pacific Amateur Championship and the Women’s Amateur Asia-Pacific respectively.

Conquer the rough with Joaquin Neimann, find out if you have been using the wrong shaft (and how to find the right one) for your game and how technology at Dubai Creek’s Peter Cowen Academy can rid your game of those frustrating little fats and thins around the green.

All this and much more in the Nov. 2021 edition of Golf Digest Middle East.

The issue is again free to our loyal audience. You can scroll through the ISSUU link provided or download the bumper November 2021 issue FREE to your favourite device for later. Alternatively, pick up a copy at your favourite club. Whatever option you take, we hope you enjoy the read.

The post Get the November 2021 issue of Golf Digest Middle East FREE today! appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

By Daniel Rapaport
There was no press conference or social-media announcement, but last month marked the end of an incredible golf career.

Guy Yocom put a lid on 36 years at Golf Digest that was spent interviewing and chronicling the greatest players in the game.

During his three-plus decades at Golf Digest, Guy came to know virtually every great golfer of the past century—from Mickey Wright to Arnold Palmer to Tiger Woods—and we don’t mean over Zoom, or at a pre-tournament press conference, or as part of a PR push to announce a new sponsorship deal. Guy spent quality time with golf’s legends in the kind of extensive, one-on-one sitdowns that seem to be growing increasingly rare.

He interviewed Ben Hogan in his Fort Worth office. He stayed at Phil Mickelson’s first condo after he graduated from college. He experienced first-hand the profound compassion of Lee Trevino.

He also happens to a gifted storyteller—one of those people that you could listen to for hours. So for this episode of Local Knowledge, with his retirement as good an excuse as any, we wanted to sit down, pour a glass of whiskey and listen to Guy recall his time spent with the greatest golfers to ever live.

The conversation centres not on how well these guys hit their irons or how incredible their clutch putting was—we zoom in on these legends as people, focusing on what they all have in common and, just as importantly, what idiosyncrasies made each of them great.

It’s a 30-minute dive into the notebook of a golf media legend, and a highly enjoyable one at that.

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By Ian Brennan
Don’t let the relaxed atmosphere, floodlit ambience and unparalleled views of the Burj Khalifa fool you. The Track, Meydan Golf is no walk in the park, a layout that promises a stern test of your game. With eight out of our nine holes protected by water, it’s common for players to find themselves in some unusual positions. Playing lessons are incredibly popular at The Track and I love the discussions they generate with beginner and veteran player alike. A common question I receive during our time on the course is: How do I play some of these awkward lies? Here at the iconic 4th Hole I’ve pulled my tee shot and found myself in one such position, a little too close to the water’s edge for comfort. Due to the bank of the lake that my ball now lies on, you’ll notice the ball is above my feet as I take my stance. The ball above the feet lie can cause a lot of problems for amateur golfers but if you remember these tips, you’ll pass this tricky lie test every time.

ALIGNMENT
First things first, we need to understand the role alignment plays in performing this shot. The more above my feet the ball is, the more left the clubface will point. Note that the higher the loft of the club in hand, the more exaggerated this will be. With that in mind, we now need to ensure to aim far enough to the right of our target to allow for the correct start line and pronounced right to left curvature this shot will produce. As you can see, my body alignment is towards the right edge of the green. You’ll also notice my swing appears to be flatter. Again, due to the angle of the slope my swing will naturally need to flatten to match with the slope. Think of a baseball swing for the perfect pre-shot feeling.

CHOKE DOWN
We’ve spoken about alignment and the effect the slope has on the golf swing itself but in order to ensure consistent contact, we also need to adjust our grip placement slightly. Remember not only is the ball above our feet, it’s also now brought closer to our body. As noted, the swing will become flatter due to the angle of the slope. This, matched with choking down slightly on the grip, will give you the best chance of catching the ball clean and watching it curve back to target, navigating another tricky Track lie like a Tour Pro.

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To book a lesson with PGA Golf Professional Ian Brennan at the Meydan Academy By Troon, call 04 381 3733 or email ian.brennan@meydangolf.com

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