Jackie Robinson's courageous integration of Major League Baseball in 1946 is widely and appropriately credited for changing the American sports landscape forever. One year later, toughened by a tour of duty in the Army’s 24th Infantry Division, another young black man named Charlie Sifford told Robinson he planned to follow in his footsteps and compete in golf, a sport where the ball and the participants were equally as white.
“He asked me if I was a quitter,” Sifford recalled in a 2004 interview. “He said, ‘OK, if you’re not a quitter, go ahead and take the challenge. If you’re a quitter, there’s going to be a lot of obstacles you’re going to have to go through to be successful in what you’re trying to do.’
“I made up my mind I was going to do it. I just did it. Everything worked out perfect, I think.”
Sifford, 92, will be one of 19 individuals to receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation's highest civilian honor, in a reception Nov. 24 at the White House, and just the third golfer to do so (Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus are the others).
It was Sifford who opened professional golf, a game with a Caucasian-only rule, to blacks more than five decades ago. Without him, Tiger Woods would not have been able to make his own impact on the sports world.
“You're the grandpa I never had,” Woods tweeted when he learned of Sifford’s latest honor. “Your past sacrifices allow me to play golf today. I'm so happy for you Charlie.”
Sifford’s skin was thick enough to endure racial injustice and epithets, and tough enough to keep on trying despite treatment as a third-class citizen. At the 1952 Phoenix Open, Sifford and his all-black foursome, which included boxer Joe Louis, found excrement in the cup on the first hole, and waited nearly an hour for the cup to be replaced.
Despite the insults, Sifford lived up to the standard set by Robinson. Sifford fought his battle essentially alone; he didn’t have teammates. He broke barriers by breaking par. Not until 1960, when he was 39, did he earn a PGA Tour player card. A year later, under pressure from the California attorney general, the PGA of America, which then ran the Tour, dropped its Caucasian-only membership clause.
Sifford’s best years already had passed, but he still won twice on the Tour. He became the first black to win a Tour event when he shot 64 in the final round to capture the 1967 Greater Hartford Open.
In 2004, Sifford became the first black golfer to break into another exclusive club. Of the 100 previously enshrined at the World Golf Hall of Fame, none was black. He was selected via the Lifetime Achievement category for his contributions to the game.
“Tonight we honor a man not just for what he accomplished on the course, but for the course he chose in life,” South African Gary Player said as he introduced his long-time friend.
That Sifford will receive the Medal of Freedom from President Barack Obama, America’s first black president, reminds us of how far we have come in this country and in golf. It also reminds us how far we still have to go. Unlike baseball, where Robinson's breaking of the color barrier cleared a path for countless black ballplayers to follow, Sifford had far fewer disciples and a less lasting effect.
Forty years ago, 10 blacks were card-carrying members of the Tour. Today, there is only one – Woods – and the LPGA Tour counts only his niece, Cheyenne, a member of its Symetra developmental circuit. Efforts like The First Tee to make golf look more like America by increasing the number of minorities and women in the game are a noble goal – but still a work in progress. Better late, than never. That’s been the story of Sifford’s life.
“Man, I'm in the Hall of Fame, the World Hall of Fame,” he said in his induction ceremony speech. “Don't forget that now! I'm in the World Hall of Fame with all the players. That little old golf I played was all right, wasn't it?”
