Four departed legends showed us the right way to live honorable lives

 

If there has ever been a greater collective loss in the history of sports, please don't remind me of it. It's hard to imagine worse.

 

In a span of 10 days, the world lost four Hall of Famers – three of them golfers and one a basketball coach. In years to come, history might recall them only for their athletic achievements. At this moment, however, anyone who knew or met these four sporting giants are grieving the loss of their humanity.

 

Kel Nagle – one of the greatest Australian golfers who beat Arnold Palmer to win the 1960 Open Championship at St. Andrews – died on Jan. 29 at age 94. His nickname was "Mr. Modesty." Fellow Australian great Peter Thomson said, "Of all the people I have met in the world of golf, this fellow is the finest."

 

Charlie Sifford – who endured unimaginable discrimination to blaze the trail for black golfers on the PGA Tour – died Feb. 3 at age 92. Lee Trevino dubbed him the "Jackie Robinson of golf" while Tiger Woods mourned "we all lost a brave, decent and honorable man."

 

Billy Casper – a three-time major champion and one of the most prolific winners in PGA Tour history – died on Feb. 7 at age 83. Overshadowed by golf's "Big Three" even when he outplayed them, he's been hailed as golf's "most underrated" player. But it was his values and warm spirit that ultimately set him apart and left fellow Masters champions like Ben Crenshaw "saddened beyond belief."

 

Dean Smith – who retired from North Carolina as the winningest basketball coach of all time – died on Feb. 7, as well, at age 83. A coaching visionary, he spent a career teaching some of the game's greatest players how to compete and live right. But it was his social activism that left friends and rivals calling him a "great coach but a greater man."

 

All four men were honored as Hall of Famers in their chosen profession. All four of them are respected for more than what they did on the field of play.

 

The only one I missed the chance to meet was Nagle. I had hoped to talk to him while traveling to Australia in 2013, but his health and my itinerary didn't allow it. Everyone who knew him gushed about his gentlemanly nature and raved about his uncanny accuracy that accounted for more Australian Tour wins (61) than any other.

 

CASPER: 2010 PGA Distinguished Service Award | SIFFORD: 2014 Presidential Medal of Freedom

 

Sifford was a tough man to get to know, understandably mistrustful of the motives of strangers after enduring threats, taunts and years of injustice trying to open the doors at the highest level for black golfers. He didn't get the chance until he was 38, almost the age Woods is now. His strength and determination were unmistakable and unshakeable.

 

"I think what Charlie Sifford has brought to his game has been monumental," said Jack Nicklaus of his fellow Presidential Medal of Freedom recipient – the nation's highest civilian honor.

 

Casper was a regular in Augusta every spring, usually holding court with family and friends at one of the umbrellaed tables behind the clubhouse. He was a favorite of reporters for always being both approachable and a gracious story teller. It was his generosity of spirit that made him beloved by anyone who met him.

 

He will be remembered for a lethal putter and 51 PGA Tour wins – seventh on the all-time list – including a pair of U.S. Opens and the 1970 Masters. During one stretch from 1962-70 at the peak of the "Big Three," he won 33 times. Five times he won the Vardon Trophy for lowest scoring average, a feat only surpassed by Woods. His career winning percentage trails only Woods and Nicklaus.

 

But these achievements aren't what Casper considered his legacy.

 

"I want to be remembered for how I loved my fellow man," he once said.

 

Coach Smith is the only one of these men for whom I can claim a lifelong relationship, of sorts. That doesn't mean I knew him well – I covered his team for only the second half of the 1997 season for the Greensboro paper – but that he was an arcing presence in my life.

 

Coming of age in ACC territory in the 1970s, you always watched the Jefferson-Pilot Game of the Week on Saturdays. That game always included either UNC, Duke or N.C. State. It seems impossible, but I was a fan of all three. How could you not love watching David Thompson or Phil Ford or Mike Gminski and Jim Spanarkle?

 

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But there was something different about Carolina. The color was unique. The floor of Carmichael Auditorium was distinctive, with the outline of the state at center court and the hand-operated scoreboards in the corners. The wholesale "Blue Team" substitutions and the "Four Corners." The way they pointed at each other after made baskets and raised their hands after fouls. And there was Dean Smith directing it all. My adolescent self loved those Heels and by extension him.

 

Then Virginia suddenly became relevant with Ralph Sampson and the Tar Heels became the enemy. Smith's teams stood in the way time and again, including a Final Four that should have been Virginia's to win. My college self loathed the Heels and by extension Smith. His success was as grating as his nasally voice, his whining about physical play, his choking the life out of what should have been one of the greatest games with his stall ball tactics that left stars like Sampson, Othell Wilson, Michael Jordan, James Worthy and Sam Perkins standing around looking at each other for most of 40 minutes.

 

A decade later I moved to North Carolina and in January 1997 found myself falling into the beat writer role covering UNC. The Tar Heels immediately started off 0-3 in the ACC for the first time in Smith's career and were 3-5 by the end of the month. His demeanor never changed. By March, the Tar Heels won another ACC Tournament and rode a 16-game winning streak to the Final Four.

 

Along the way, Smith surpassed Adolph Rupp's record for all-time coaching victories. Everyone was writing profiles of Smith, but he wouldn't talk about himself. In talking to others, the depth of Smith's character came into focus for me. His selflessness. His social conscious that led him to stand up for desegregating his school and community and speaking out against the death penalty. His unabiding loyalty. His humility. The professional me deeply admired the man.

 

John Feinstein posted the perfect Dean Smith quote that summed him up: "You should never be proud of doing the right thing. You should just do the right thing."

 

That's the common thread here – all four of these Hall of Famers did the right things in their lives. They were not only great at their chosen crafts, they were great at leading by example. History will remember their feats, but it's their lost presence in this world that is incalculable.

 

Rest in peace, gentlemen. We thank you for all for gracing our lives with your lessons.

 

This article was written by Scott Michaux from The Augusta Chronicle, Ga. and was legally licensed through the NewsCred publisher network.