
There's something comforting about walking into Jackie Burke's office.
Maybe it's that leather chair I keep telling him is the best thing this side of a well-worn saddle. Easy. Comfortable. The perfect place for someone to sit for a spell and visit. And let's just say it's seldom empty.
Maybe it's the feel of the room. Warm. Understated. Two desks -- one for him, one for his wife Robin. The latter belonged to the late Jimmy Demaret -- the yin to Burke's yang. They were so opposite, yet so close. So perfect as a pair that it's hard to think of one without the other.
Maybe it's the pictures that tell the stories of the last 50 or so years on the walls. Or the way your mind wanders back to the day Demaret came up with a plan for a golf course that would host a lawn party for the 50-plus set in Austin and launch not only the Legends of Golf, but the Champions Tour.
Maybe it is a bit of all of the above. But mostly, it's just Jackie.
Comforting? Probably not the term most people would use to describe being around him. Mostly they'd say he's gruff. Or ornery. Or a bit crusty. Heck, he might give you a slap upside the head to get his point across. Or threaten you. But if he did, there would be a reason.
And a parable wouldn't be far behind.
Jackie, you see, was put on this good earth to teach. To unclog that brain of yours and get it working right. That blockage could be causing a hook or a slice or the yips on the golf course. Or it might just be stopping you from living life to the fullest -- the way, he'd tell you, the good lord intended.
He doesn't need much time to size up your swing -- or you, period. He's spent a lifetime observing both golf and life, which, in the gospel according to Jackie, are inseparable.
And the best thing about Jackie? He doesn't tell you what you want to hear, but rather what you need to hear.
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Yet last fall, the Hall of Famer had to do the listening. The man we've come to see as a national treasure suffered a stroke.
The 86-year-old was driving to the ranch in Fredericksburg when he suddenly didn't feel so good. He called his wife Robin on the cell phone, and she knew something was wrong. But Jackie kept on driving. And when he stepped out of the car in Fredericksburg, Hal Sutton was waiting and took him straight to the hospital.
The doctor there suggested he head to St. David's Hospital in Austin. Robin, who had driven up and convinced him to go, couldn't fly in the helicopter with him. She had to drive to Austin.
"I went up in one of those damn helicopters, which I'll never do again,'' Jackie said. "I thought I'd bought the farm.
"I look down at night coming in on Austin, and all you can see are lights. Where are they dropping down? It turned out on top of the hospital. And I'm not worried about myself. I'm thinking more of Robin down there on the road just trying to find St. David's in the middle of the night.''
He didn't get hit big, as he put it. He got lucky. A setback.
"Had to learn to walk again,'' he said. "You start there.''
He got his balance and speech back, and then he went back to hitting balls and teaching. He's slowed down some and doesn't much like the fact that for the first time in his life, he has to take medication. He's even mellowed just a touch, but make no mistake; he'll still sit you down and set you -- or your game -- straight.
Jackie's never met a situation that doesn't call for a parable. He learned to teach that way from his father -- the first pro in Texas and one of Harvey Penick's mentors -- and from the Basillian priests at Houston's St. Thomas High School. He made the rest up as he went along.
You've probably heard about Jackie banging Billy Ray Brown in the head -- or maybe it was his shoulder -- so he'd know the pain of missing a practice putt. Or the day he sent JimMcLean to Galveston to tee up three balls and try to hit the Gulf of Mexico. McLean was steering the ball, and Burke wanted him to widen his target.
Jackie has a solution to whatever ails you. Sometimes it's full contact -- Ben Crenshaw laughs that he needs to put on protective gear; sometimes it's just talking things out.
Just don't use the term guru around him. He hates it.
Yet people quote him all the time. He has what have been called the Ten Commands -- think the 10 Amendments to the 10 Commandments -- posted in his kitchen. They're thoughts to live by, even if they don't always sound like it.
Things like:
First things first. Or Prioritize. Think of the shot you're hitting, not the one after that.
The 50-51 rule. This came from Father Allnoch, one of the priests at St. Thomas. Bottom line, if you make $50, don't spend $51.
Anything with its head down gets eaten. Keep your head up and be observant -- on the course and in life.
The two key words to a successful marriage are "Yes, Dear." It applies to both men and women.
Sit in that chair for a spell, and you'll learn that with recklessness, joy is what's been lost. Don't worry so much about your swing. Trust it. Trust life. Let go and enjoy. Take play as serious as children on a playground.
Every time Jackie pulls in another honor, it's not just because he's a great player or a great teacher. It's also because of the heart, the parables, the philosophy, the uncanny ability to cut straight to the truth. And the honesty -- sometimes brutal but always laced with something that makes you smile.
Jackie's been honored so many times now, it's hard to keep track. But to be honored at the Memorial Tournament, Jack Nicklaus' event, will be special. Burke puts Nicklaus in a class of his own, raising five kids and winning 18 major championships.
He laughs that the only reason those honors keep coming is because they need someone to make a speech. But don't kid yourself. It's because we all still need to hear a few more of those parables -- or the same ones a few more times.
Which brings us back to that word -- comforting. Like so many others, I always take something new away from every visit with Jackie. A new perspective. A life lesson.
Sometimes it takes a while to sink in, but it always does.
Even if he has to remind you again. And again.
Melanie Hauser is a columnist for PGATOUR.COM. Her views do not necessarily represent the views of the PGA TOUR.