Ex-BYU coach wasn't par for course

In a perfect world, I envision, every coach will be like Karl Tucker.

The legendary Brigham Young University golf coach, who for 31 years pumped out All-Americans at a rate of better than two per season off a campus that was covered with frost most of the school year, died last Friday at 83.

I had the pleasure of covering golf during much of the Tucker era. It was precisely because of him that not only was I front and center for numerous college golf championships but that I regularly found myself in press tents at the U.S. Open, the Masters, even the British Open. Somebody had to keep track of all those All Americans when they turned pro.

Tucker grew up on a farm in Orem not far from the farm where LaVell Edwards, four years younger, was raised. Their stories are remarkably similar ... Both attended Lincoln High School. Both found gainful employment at the university just down the road. Both had a knack for turning negatives into positives.

In Edwards' case, instead of seeing returned missionaries as over-the-hill and out-of-shape, he saw maturity and experience. That and the forward pass is the reason BYU plays football today in LaVell Edwards Stadium.

As for Tucker, he looked at the cold, wintry conditions that took up much of the school year as a recruiting plus — for golfers.

When prospects came to Provo he'd toss them a parka and take them up Provo Canyon to Sundance — where he also happened to be BYU's ski school director — and put them on skis.

Risk? What risk? Doing something that would put virtually every other coach in America into a catatonic fit, he didn't just suggest that his golfers ski, he skied with them.

One day circa 1980 I wanted to interview Bobby Clampett, soon to be the national collegiate Player of the Year. Karl said fine, but we'll do it at Sundance.

Several members of the golf team joined us. I can't remember exactly how the interview went, but the skiing and the camaraderie was great.

It wasn't so much a golf team as it was a family. Wherever Coach went, his players could be found close by. They walked like him, talked like him, dressed like him, called each other the nicknames he gave them. I swear deep down every one of them wanted to be him.

He managed to turn the most individual of sports into a group effort. BYU golfers did not go into battle alone. They always had backup, led by the ever-present man in the golf cart who called them all "Heber."