He doesn’t prefer carbs, but today he’s picking at a banana nut muffin. Flying like this is nothing like how he used to travel, back when he and his late wife, Vivienne, would cross oceans with six kids who would sometimes nap in the aisles.
But the reason he accumulated all of these miles — too many to count, he says — and became the sport’s first global superstar is quite simple: He wanted to win more golf tournaments than anyone else, and to do that, he couldn’t be complacent. He didn’t buy a home in the States until a few years ago, which means he had to frequently crisscross the globe from his native South Africa. He won in America. England. Japan. Australia. Brazil. France. Chile. More than 160 professional titles.
His schedule isn’t as hectic now as it was in his playing days, but he’s not exactly sedentary. He was in Texas for a clinic at the Valero Texas Open, and after the Masters he’s bound for Florida and then Long Island. Then Texas, the United Kingdom, back to South Africa, then the U.K. again.
Back in the 1960s and ’70s, most of Player’s trips called for several layovers. Sometimes as many as six. He insists he would have won more majors had he lived in the States all those years. Although the grueling travel schedule helped shape one of Player’s core principles since his 20s: He had to learn to treat his body right to be able to withstand this lifestyle.
Player doesn’t have any flying superstitions (doesn’t believe in the word) or quirks, but he has picked up tricks along the way. He likes to exercise before and after flights. He avoids big meals on planes and stays hydrated with water or fruit or vegetable juices. He likes to read, although the biggest key is sleep. He tries to get at least nine hours a night.
“Jack Nicklaus said traveling with me is like traveling on his own,” Player says. “He says, ‘Gary gets on the plane next to me and I say, Oh, this time change is so tough. I turn around and he’s sleeping the whole trip.'”
Player doesn’t sleep on this flight. He’s too jazzed about his horse, eager to return to the Masters and, as you probably know, Gary Player loves to talk. About anything. (He even breaks to phone the writer’s parents.) Some of his answers wander, but his mind is still sharp. This will be his 68th time at the Masters. When Player made his Augusta National debut in 1957, at age 21, Ben Hogan was still in the field; when, at 73, he made his last Masters appearance — this was in 2009 — Rory McIlroy was playing his first.
His resume at golf’s most famous tournament is hard to top.
He won three Masters, in 1961, ’74 and ’78. In ’61, he became the first International winner. In ’78, at age 42, he started the final round seven shots back.
“My son Wayne said, ‘Dad, you’re playing so well, if you putt tomorrow you could shoot 65 and win by a shot,'” Player says.
He shot 64. Player birdied seven of his last 10 holes and shot 30 on the back nine to win by one and claim the last of his nine major titles. That final-round 64 tied a course record and still hasn’t been topped among the tournament’s best final rounds.
He has 15 Masters top 10s and made the cut as a 62-year-old; his 52 Masters starts is a record.
“Augusta is a very, very special place,” he says. “It’s the best-run tournament in the world and it’s the most beautiful place for a tournament — it’s an integral part of my life.”
He used to walk down Magnolia Lane when he arrived on-site, although now he instead says a prayer as he drives down it. He loves the Champions Dinner but his favorite part of the week is the ceremonial tee shots he’ll hit Thursday morning alongside Tom Watson and Nicklaus.
“They’re cheering and giving you their love,” Player says. He scoots up in his chair sometimes to emphasize a point. “It’s goose pimples. And you say, ‘They are doing it for me?’ I’m not that important. So it makes you very humble. And you shouldn’t think you’re important because you’re not in God’s eyes, you’re just another man. And it’s just the love that’s given to you and you walk out on that first tee and it brings back memories of when you first teed off.”
But Player, one-third of the Big 3 that helped golf flourish in the 1960s, does not believe in legacies. He thinks you should simply do the best while you are here before your time runs out. It’s why he and his late wife started The Gary & Vivienne Player Foundation (there’s one in South Africa and another in the States), where they raise money and support underprivileged children.
He laughs at the idea of traveling less; he likes it and still loves meeting people and enjoys the work. He puts the time in, too. He has a thick journal with a worn, brown cover full of handwritten speeches and notes he keeps in his Hudson Sutler duffel. He calls for the bag and retrieves the book.
“I’m a great believer that the pen is mightier than the sword,” Player says, as he pages through the journal, looking for a passage he recently wrote for a speaking arrangement. He finds it, unfolds a piece of paper and begins: Something changed in my life, somewhere along the way. Eventually, I started to win tournaments. I was so focused, not relaxed. I felt I had a suit of armor impervious to almost anything except a bullet. My mind really kicked into gear. Something inexplicable struck my mind. I was on my way — and I was going to be a champion.
