My golf bag is very important to me. I've even given it a name, The Muse. I don’t throw it around or allow others to do so. No, it’s not a staff bag; as a matter-of-fact, it’s a very inexpensive, solid green cloth bag with large pockets where things get lost or are forgotten ‘til I buy a replacement and then discover I have a duplicate, triplicate or more.

My golf bag protects my clubs and contains a lot more than just golf paraphernalia. It holds memories of good times with friends and magnificent golf courses. Waching a valet load the bag in my van the other day, I remembered playing Cog Hill Golf and Country Club with a guy who got his first birdie that day. Wow! That was really special. This guy must have weighed two hundred pounds and he comes at me like an NFL fullback, picks me up and swings me around like a rag doll. I was thrilled and sacred at the same time.

People are always laughing at how protective I am of my old golf equipment. The last time I played at Inverrary Country Club (Jackie Gleason’s old hangout) a guy said to me, “You’re the only pro I’ve ever seen who has those rubber covers on your irons. Personally, I don’t think they do much for your image.”

I wasn’t offended. I felt the $20 he had just paid me gave him the right to do a little venting. So I said, “You know, come to think of it, I’ve never seen a pro using these covers. But I’ve got no choice. I’m on a fixed income and this set has to go the rest of the way with me.”

It gets back to the old saying, old habits die hard. When I was an instructor pilot, I would tell my students, “You take care of this airplane, and it will take care of you.” I believe that holds true for golf equipment as well.