Jimmy Thompson has finally found a sand-trap bunker from which he cannot escape.
Still, even lying on his back in bed at Heritage House, an American Fork care center, Thompson's golf mind ticks on, his dreams bloom, the gears in his brain grind on as details of a vision are cemented before him, a plan to ensure the future of the game in Utah.
Thompson is 87 years old. He's lived a legendary life. He's walked with Ben Hogan, Sam Snead and Johnny Miller and tutored long-time Utah golf club professionals such as Riverside's Robert McArthur, Hobble Creek's Sonny Braun, Tri City's Rick Roberts and a host of others sprinkled around the country.
Thompson's a man with kind eyes and a gentle manner. He speaks with an Oklahoma native drawl. He's spent most of his life teaching kids how to golf, selling the game as an ambassador and elevating gamesmanship specifically in Provo at the old Timp course and Tri City, places he worked as head professional before retiring.
Randy Dodson, publisher of Fairways Magazine, the official voice of the Utah Golf Association, calls Thompson a well deep with knowledge and class.
Around Valentine's Day of this year, Thompson was taking a shower in a St. George motel when he slipped and fell, smashing his head against the tile wall and then the ceramic tub. Since that time, he has been unable to stand or walk.
Still he dreams of the game that's shaped his life.
One April afternoon, Thompson phoned and asked that I come see him at Heritage House. I did so. Thompson was in fine form, he spoke on and on about something that's bugged him for years — creating a golf facility, expanding Tri City golf course. I took six pages of notes. He was bursting with enthusiasm about his idea.
In simple terms, Thompson's mind etched out a vision of an expanded teaching facility at the course, acquisition of property near No. 5, expansion of the course to 27 holes, a year-round driving range shaped in a curve with double decks, heated and lighted, a maintenance building, new clubhouse, and a classroom with desks and chalkboard where youth can be taught the game at no charge.
"Teach them fundamentals, the pace of play, the rules. We could raise a generation of golfers. The universities would never have to recruit players out of state again," Thompson said.
He gave the names of bankers, key north Utah County people who could help undertake fund raising for the job, how it would be done and the results it would bring. Tri City, a venture by Pleasant Grove, American Fork and Lehi was once the top public course in the state. Over the years, as surrounding communities build Taj Mahal clubhouses and sleek fairways, it has pained Thompson to see the old jewel fall behind.
Politically, if not financially, it may be an impossible dream. Just up the road, Cedar Hills' course has yet to find a financial identity and operates in controversy as other courses struggle to share the golf pie and attract players. But Thompson won't hear a negative word about his vision. "I want to get on it, it bugs me," he said.
Thompson grew up as a kid in a broken home. He despised golf even though his best friend kept telling him to come to the local course and caddy with him. He walked out of the movie house when those old previews came on with reports of golf. Then one day he joined his friend and caddied. He was hooked. Two years later he caddied for Sheriff Stanley Rogers, who paid him 75 cents and bought him a Coke for an afternoon's work at Woodlawn Golf Course in Oklahoma City.
He remembers his first day with the sheriff as if it were yesterday afternoon.
Thompson's life changed forever. He ended up sleeping on top of the wooden lockers at the course, doing odd jobs and chores so he could be close to the game and learn. Later, he became a golf professional in Oklahoma, California and Utah.
"Golf is such a great game, so wonderful. I don't know why more people don't play," Thompson said. "It's been so good to me. I want to introduce people to it."
Thompson watched the Tournament Player's Championship from his bed almost a month ago. He saw fans at TPC Sawgrass whooping and hollering like it was a rodeo or NASCAR event. It made him sick. Golf is a game of reverent respect and dignity, not a prize fight.
"That's Jimmy," McArthur said.
"There are very few people in the golf scene that have the history, not only of golf in Utah but the game nationwide, that Jimmy does," Dodson added.
"You look at a guy like Jimmy Thompson, he's a great example of what and who a golf pro should be. Anyone who wants to get into the business should talk to guys like Jimmy before they're all gone because they can explain every aspect of the game of golf like no one else. He's been a great friend over the years and an instant source for stories and interviews because he can speak first-hand for hours about the game."
Thompson remains at Heritage House. It is unknown if he will ever be able to stand again and explain to a kid how to grip a club, a passion that's driven him for decades. Accommodating, faithful, a true believer in people, the man refuses to give into his tragedy, although he knows this one is a stretch of uphill fairway to a protected green harboring a pin placement he's never seen before.
But he dreams. Oh, yes, he dreams.
Nobody can take those dreams away.
E-mail: dharmon@desnews.com