Editor’s note: Doug Sanders was a professional golfer born in Cedartown, winning 20 times on the PGA Tour. He was the first amateur to win the Canadian Open and is a member of the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame.

The first time Buddy (my dad) and I saw Doug Sanders was at the old Orange County open around 1967, I think. I was a little skinny ten-year-old with very straight, long, sandy-colored hair. I remember asking this one very famous golf pro for his autograph while he walked between holes. He was rude to me and I started to tear up a little.

Just then this amazing-looking man dressed in pink stopped to see if I was all right. Even his shoes were pink! This guy was a golf rock star. He bent down and patted my head and said, “What’s the matter, Curly?” I looked up at him and was starstruck. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t know who he was but I knew he had that rockstar thing going for him. You know that aura that says “let’s party, I’m the man”. That whole self-confidence thing.

“My name is Doug Sanders son, what’s yours?” he asked as he extended his hand for me to shake.

I shook his hand and the tears went away. “I’m Garrett McKinley, sir.”

“Do you live around here, Curly?” he asked.

“Yes sir!” I said.

“Well, I saw you looked a little mad when that other guy refused to give you his autograph, and I said to myself, ‘Doug, you have to meet that curly headed boy and cheer him up.’ Boy you sure do have some curly hair,” he said smiling. Like I said earlier, I had long surfer straight hair, not a curl in it. This golf rockstar had a sense of humor, and I liked him instantly.

He looked at Buddy, who was standing there amused, and said, “I have to tee off. Would you and Curly like to walk the last few holes with me? I know some good stories.” Buddy said it would be our pleasure. They shook hands and I walked the last four holes inside the roped off area with Mr. Doug Sanders, “the famous golf rockstar”.

Doug Sanders had a very short compact swing that hit the ball wherever he wanted it to go. He won a ton of tournaments in the 1960s. He was, in my eyes, golf’s Goodwill Ambassador to the game. There wasn’t a mean bone in him, and most pros were jealous of him because he could hang out ‘til the wee hours of the morning, and could party with the pretty golf groupie girls and Frank Sinatra. Mr. Sanders knew a lot of famous people. He was a friend to movie stars, singers, presidents and kings… Like Mr. Sinatra, Doug Sanders did it his way.

As for the knuckleheads that were jealous of him, they could never figure out to be jealous of his golf game or his ability to get the chicks. In the end his golf game spoke volumes. He won over twenty pro tournaments including the Canadian Open in the 1950s, when he was just 22-years-old and still an amateur. He could flat out play golf! To this day a lot of those same golf pros are still in envy of Doug Sanders. In the past 35 years only “three PGA pros’’ have won more golf tournaments than “George Douglas Sanders’’; those guys are Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, and Vijay Singh—not bad company, Mr. Sanders…

Buddy and I felt real cool walking the fairways of Mesa Verde that day with Mr. Sanders. When we were done he bought us some cold drinks and said, “Well aren’t you gonna ask me”?

I was a little taken back at first. Then I remembered how this all started in the first place. “Can I have your autograph Mr. Sanders?” I asked.

“Well of course you can, Garrett.” He looked at his caddie and said “Rabbit, (his caddie’s name) please go get my bag for me.”

Rabbit came back with this giant golf bag and Doug started to go through it. He walked over to me with a sleeve of golf balls. They were Golden Ram golf balls. He said, “Here, these are for you. You’re a good sport.” “Thank you Mr. Sanders. You’re a very cool guy. Can I still have your autograph?” I asked

“Of course! And you know what?” he said.

“What…?” I replied.

“You’re a very cool guy as well. Thanks to you I birdied the last four holes.” He said smiling like he knew some sort of secret joke.

He shook Buddy’s hand and bent down and whispered something in my ear, and then he went on his way. That was the day I met my childhood hero! It was one of the best days of my life…

Story courtesy of contributing writer GARRETT GRAY McKINLEY, Flower Mound Texas.