That Penick has lived to enjoy this summer's shots is a wonder. A year ago he lay crippled and incoherent in the hospital, facing surgery for a bleeding ulcer. "They told me I'd either put him in a nursing home or have 24-hour help," says Helen Penick, Harvey's wife of 63 years. "And since then"—she begins to laugh—"he's written a book!"
"There's no explanation for it," says Tinsley. "It's providential."
Whatever the reason, Harvey Penick was able to sit up and watch the final round of the 1992 U.S. Open on TV. He believed that Kite would win because Kite, except for second-place finisher Jeff Sluman, was the only contender playing smart golf.
"Hey, Harvey!" A club member waves from the door of the Harvey Penick Room, beside a life-sized etching of Penick on frosted glass. "Take dead aim!"
The old man waves back and smiles. In the copy of the book in his hands, he has written a brief inscription—"Keep playing or you'll get old."
"You just wouldn't believe," he says, enjoying his day in the sun, "that a grown caddie could get so much out of life."