“Even in old age, they will still produce fruit; they will remain vital and green.” (Psalm 92:14 NLT).

“Old Pro”. These two words echo in so many golf tales throughout the decades.

Golf lore is full of the “Old Pro” who quietly delivers the Good News of Golf, often with spiritual overtones. Most recently, the hero of “The Mulligan” (Wally Armstrong and Ken Blanchard’s novel) is such a character. He is cleverly named Will Dunn (“Well done thou good and faithful servant…”). And they don’t have to be “Christian” like Will Dunn. You will remember incredible characters like Shivas Irons and Bagger Vance, who take these mythical characters to another world of the mysteries of the universe. You don’t need to be a PGA professional or a preacher to be an “Old Pro”. Sometimes a caddie will do.

Some of the “Old Pro” stories are even true. The original one had to be Ol’ Tom Morris in St. Andrews. But he was just the original patriarch of golf. His son Tommy died too young to wear the crown.

Bobby Jones had Stewart Maiden from Scotland to teach him the basics. Jack Nicklaus went back annually to Jack Grout to check his fundamentals. Ben Crenshaw and Tom Kite looked to Harvey Penick and his little red book. These “Old Pro” figures are the serious golfer’s version of the Guru. The relationship between the pro and the student becomes spiritual at some point, no matter what the player’s religion may be.

Harvey Penick died on Sunday, April 2, 1995. Three days later, Ben Crenshaw was a weeping pallbearer at the funeral, which had to be on Wednesday because Thursday was the opening round of the Masters. Ben teed off at Augusta National that day with tears in his eyes. At age 43, many experts thought Ben was a ceremonial ex-champion when he teed off on Thursday morning. But… you know the rest of the story. Ben won the Masters on Sunday, April 9, 1995.

Was Ben’s “Old Pro” watching and smiling? I’d say no doubt.

For me, these two words- “Old Pro” — create a mental picture of an older man, wearing some sort of tam, a woolen cap of Scottish origin. The sweater should be plain- probably grey or navy, so as not to draw attention. The pants and the shirt may not match perfectly, but it doesn’t matter because he is not a person who cares to be noticed. He is a working man, giving golf lessons and running the golf club with efficiency and an iron hand. In the mind’s eye, this ‘old pro’ is not very tall, closer to the earth than most and thus better able to control a golf ball. He is in no hurry. His hands are calloused but not from manual labor, just from holding a golf club in his hands for decades. Those hands fit perfectly on a golf club like ice cream on a cone. His walking stick, if he needs one, is just an old wooden shafted putter. He leans on it when he stops to speak. You imagine a Scottish accent, even if he lives in Texas or New Jersey or Alabama. He will be a “character” who does not suffer fools easily. He will not actually use many words. His name should be Willie if he truly has Scottish descendants.

Well, last year I met the real “old pro”. And sure enough, his name is Willie.

Willie Skinner was the golf professional at Royal Dornoch for decades, retired long ago to turn the job over to his capable son Andrew. He was not a trained professional. He was simply the best player at the club- a man who knew more than anyone else back in the days when getting to the village of Dornoch was an arduous adventure through the highlands of Scotland. Future bridges would shorten the journey, but in Willie’s day, a trip to Dornoch was just too difficult for most golfing pilgrims.

My personal story with Willie starts on a rainy Sunday morning, July 3, 2022. I was speaking at a small church in Dornoch, just a few yards from the first tee at the famous golf club. Dornoch and District Christian Fellowship meets in the old schoolhouse where Donald Ross attended elementary school in the 1880’s. After the service, I was signing my recently published novel, Player’s Progress (www.playersprogress.com). One of the sweet church ladies asked me to sign a book for her uncle. “Sure, what’s his name?” I asked.

“Willie Skinner. He was the golf pro at Dornoch for many years.”

My jaw dropped and I stared with bug-eyes at the lady. I had heard about Willie, but for some reason, I presumed that the original ‘old pro” of Dornoch had been dead for a few years. His name was legendary to me. He had been an icon of Scottish golf. I first heard his name while reading “A Season in Dornoch” by Lorne Rubenstein over twenty-five years ago.

“Willie Skinner? Are you serious? I thought he was dead!”

“Oh my no. He is 89 and fit as can be. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him on the golf course. He and my Aunt Mary live right around the corner.”

I was so thrilled to hear that this legendary “old pro” was alive and well. I signed the book “To Willie and Mary” and added my phone number, hoping we could connect. I asked his niece if she thought it would be okay to visit Mary and Willie. For me, this was like knowing I could chat with Ol’ Tom Morris, risen from the dead.

“Of course. Why not?”, she said. As I began to plan a visit, the phone rang during the next few days. It was one of those rare thrills of being an ‘author’. It was Willie, speaking in his lovely accent from the north of Scotland. It felt like a call from heaven. He told me he had started reading my book and he liked it. He invited me to visit. I told him I would come to the house when 1981 British Open champion Bill Rogers was in town the next week.

And sure enough, it happened. Bill and I went to visit the ‘Old Pro’. We stayed for an hour and discussed golf and life and Dornoch. Mary was lovely, showing us the card sent from Queen Elizabeth to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. They pulled out pictures of Willie with Jack Nicklaus, Tom Watson, and other champions who had visited Dornoch over the years. And then a guest book was presented which had autographs and greetings from many of the famous golfers in the world who made the trek to the holy land of Dornoch’s links. Willie asked Bill to add his signature to all the other champions. And to be polite, they wanted me to sign, mistakenly thinking I might be a famous author. Little did they know that my signature in their book was devaluing it substantially.

It happened to be a Sunday morning, so we took a few extra minutes to discuss church and the famous Dornoch Cathedral, where we learned that Willie was dedicated to God as a baby. We prayed with Mary and Willie, thanking the Lord for long life and inviting the same God who created Dornoch to stay with this dear couple.

I was back in Dornoch a year later and decided to capture some of “The Wisdom of Willie” on video (see below). I made another appointment with Willie for a Sunday afternoon but was disappointed when he called to ‘cancel’, telling me he and Mary were having a difficult morning. I said a silent prayer, “Oh Lord, help Willie. I really want to see him.”

So, what a treat to get a second call from Willie at noon to say, “Come on”. He was feeling better. I knocked on the door, He was ready to chat. Mary came in as well. She was in great spirits, but her hearing was nearly gone. She just smiled for an hour, proud of her ‘old pro’. She chimed in an occasional word to help Willie remember someone’s name or the memory of a place they had been.

My aging and deteriorating golf game got a boost with a putting lesson from Willie, who explained why I miss so many putts on the left. “It’s your eyes,” he told me. Well, that made me feel a little better. At least it was not because I was a bad putter. I can blame my eyes.

And in return, the only gift I could give Willie and Mary was a special prayer for them as they stand on the doorsteps of eternity. We talked about how age 90 (or even age 72 for young men like me) makes us think about ‘what comes next’. Willie told me he hoped there would be golf in heaven. I agreed with him. We discussed how heaven is available for those who simply trust in the Almighty and loving God who sent his son Jesus to be our Savior. He smiled when I reminded him that Jesus gives us a “Mulligan” when we trust Him. Willie’s personal spiritual journey had been sidelined by golf duties for many years, but now he was ready to pray and get ready for whatever awaits us in the heavenly realm.

I close with one final “Old Pro” imaginary tale. It happens on that heavenly golf course that Willie envisions. I picture three older golfers, leaning on ancient wooden-shafted putters, perhaps on the putting green at Hokmah Golf Club (www.hokmahgolfclub.com). Players can play all night at this place because the Son is shining and the River of Life is flowing nearby. Willie Skinner slowly approaches the gray-bearded threesome who are chatting like old friends do.

It is the first day in heaven for the “Old Pro” of Royal Dornoch. He has agreed to give a nine-hole playing lesson to these three friends, who play nine holes almost every evening after the crowds have wandered away. There is no sundown in this place so the evening, even night-time, is often the best time to play. They like to be alone with each other. On occasion, the Lord Himself and his angels caddy for them.

But these guys do not need angels, who know nothing about golf. They need Willie. They need a lesson.

Moses is 120 years old and has a weak slice which he hopes to cure during the round. He thinks he may have found something on the practice mats and wants Willie to confirm it.

Noah is looking for help with the chipping yips, a malady that strikes almost everyone if they live long enough. He was fine for many centuries, but after the flood, at age 600, he was afflicted with these yips that would make most men quit.

And last, the ancient Job has hit rock bottom with his putting. Three of his annoying friends have told him that help is on the way because, thanks to the Amazing Grace of the Almighty, Willie Skinner has come through the Pearly Gates.

At a young 99, Willie’s smile says it all. He is happy to join this patriarchal three-ball.

Willie tells Moses to swing the club faster, like the time when he struck the rock in the desert. He tells Noah to loosen his grip and keep the club low on his chipping backswing. And last, Willie held up a finger to show Job how to find out which eye should be looking at the ball when he putts. Job was fascinated by the tip.

When the round was complete, none of the Patriarchs were much better, but they all agreed, Willie Skinner, the “Old Pro”, was a treasure indeed and a wonderful addition to the heavenly realm.

Moses spoke for the group when he said simply, “Willie, welcome home. Can you join us tomorrow evening? Same time?”

Willie smiled at the invitation. He knew he was home.