Life Lessons From a Golfer and Father in Law -- JJ McCarthy

"I always putt out because if you get used to taking the gimme's one day you're going to have to make a 3-footer for a $2 Nassau, and you won't be able to make the putt." That statement in so many ways summed up my father-in-law JJ McCarthy's philosophy of life. He told me that the first time we golfed together now almost three decades ago. I still do not know exactly what a $2 Nassau is. We just played for fun. But I believe it is a golf bet that can get progressively higher as a round goes along. Golf is a gentleman's game and competitors often give each other gimme's when the final putt looks easy. JJ, even though he would often give me that final putt, always putted out.

Me and my favorite golfing buddy on one of our last rounds together in December 2011

Golf was both a game he loved and a metaphor for his life which ended on Sunday at the age of 87. He knew that life like the game of golf could quickly change from a pleasant morning walk where competitors are giving each other shots to a much less pleasant competitive situation where your supposed friend has decided to make you make the putt. JJ always wanted to be ready for those moments in the game and his life.

I am not a very good golfer, but that never mattered to JJ. We shared many rounds together over the 25 years that I knew him. His play was the model of consistency. He was the first to emphasize to me that it is a game of chipping and putting. That the long hitters, although powerful, aren't the ones who always score the best. If you keep the ball in the fairway and chip and putt well, you will score. That was how JJ played the game and tried to play his life. He could shoot his age in his late 70's and still occasionally break 90 in his 80's.

But life was not a competition to J.J.. He was mostly thrilled about the achievements of his family. Many of whom had options in life that he never had. Never having attended college himself, he bragged to his mates about family members who attended Yale and Amherst. He was proud of son-in laws who were Supreme Court clerks and one who could occasionally run a fast marathon and get his picture in the local sports page. He would call our house every Tuesday -- when his wife was out playing cards -- so he could get caught up on all our news.

JJ was part of the greatest generation. Sent to the Pacific late in World War II, the dropping of the Atom bomb -- although horrible -- probably saved him from a potentially terrible invasion of Japan. He returned to Springfield, Massachusetts and built a plumbing supply business with his brother. The business like the game of golf had many good years but had years that were tough too. JJ never seemed to let on that the tough years bothered him too much. That was life. He would putt out.

JJ had another habit at the golf course. He used to always ask the starter did he need a cup of coffee. Again it was one of those simple lessons. Take care of the people who are taking care of you. We would show up to the course, and JJ would check in with the starter. "When do we tee off?" he would ask the starter. Whatever the answer, ten minutes or 15 minutes, JJ would say, "OK, I am going to get a coffee. Let me get you one."

Golf was also about companionship to JJ. On the course he had colorful stories to tell. One of his favorites was the time his friend arranged for them "to go on a junket" to Las Vegas and he discovered many of the other guys on the trip were local mobsters. That sort of frightened him, but "we got the best seats at all the shows" he would say with a laugh. He devoted himself to golf at a tough time in his life. And would reminisce about working hard all week then playing 36 holes on Saturday, 36 holes on Sunday and finishing the weekend in the dark with his friends playing a one club flashlight round. Even though they were tough years, he would always find the good moments.

After I proposed to my wife Kathy, JJ used to tease his wife Jane -- my mother in law -- and say, "I've warned him. Nobody warned me. But I have warned him." In so many ways JJ looked out for me and all of his family, and we all loved him for that quality. It wasn't until late in his life when it was difficult for him to bend down and pick the ball out of the hole that he started bending his rule a little and taking the gimme. He must have figured he had faced enough moments in his life when some guy -- not the man JJ was -- would challenge him again to make that three footer for a $2 Nassau.

There is the cliche about sports that sports does not build character it reveals it. This cliche was certainly true about JJ McCarthy. I know I will never walk on a golf course again and not think of him and the lesson he taught me about life ... always putt out.