A Memorable Masters

Hideki Matsuyama, 2021 Masters Champion

For me, the final day, the final hole of the Masters Golf Tournament is always spectacle for an emotional outpouring of the best in sport.  This year was no exception.

As he walked toward the 18^th green, this year’s winner was special and the crowd knew it.  Small by Master’s standards because of COVID, the crowd stood, clapped and cheered as Hideki Matsuyama made his way onto the green. 

A novice and amateur 10 years ago, Matsuyama had been the low scoring amateur at this same event.  Now, he was the winner of the tournament and of the Green Jacket—in my view, the most prestigious honor you can receive in the world of golf.

There are four major tournaments a year in professional golf—the U.S. Open, the PGA, the British Open and the Masters.  The Masters is the only major played at the same golf course each year—Augusta National.  If this were baseball, it would be like the World Series being played each year at Yankee Stadium. 

If this were baseball, it would be like the World Series being played each year at Yankee Stadium. 

Augusta is magical.   It is a golf course in the midst of a beautiful garden.  It is a course built and envisioned by Bobby Jones, perhaps the greatest American pioneer in the game of golf.  You feel the spirit of Bobby Jones when you are there.  The players know that this is “holy ground.”  When you tee a ball up at Augusta National, you are treading the same ground as some the great names in sport—names like Jones, Hogan, and Palmer.

We know that Matsuyama’s victory was huge news in Japan.  The sport has been growing in that country since its introduction early in the twentieth century.  Matsuyama is now a hero in his home country, and that is good for the sport everywhere.

When given the Green Jacket, the commentator mentioned that the newest winner at the Masters was from Sendai, Japan.   It brought back a memory of an old friend, Carl, who at age 19 was a waist-gunner on a B-29 which one night in 1945, along with many other planes, firebombed the City of Sendai—a part of the great conflagration that ended World War II.  Though at 12,000 ft., the big bomber was bounced around like a ball by the heat coming from the flames below.  He couldn’t sleep much after that night… the smells of the burning City of Sendai would not leave him.  It wasn’t until he decided to give his life to God and become a minister that Carl began to sleep well again.  Yet, he never forgot his days in the Air Corps and would regularly attend reunions of the 20^th Air Force.  He always wore a B-29 tie clasp.  We sang in a church choir together.  It was the tie-clasp that led to my asking him about the war.

Other than last year’s postponement for six months because of COVID, the only time the Masters has ever been cancelled (or postponed) was for three years (1943-’45) during the Second World War.

If Carl were still around, he would have loved to have seen Hideki Matsuyama walking up that 18^th fairway, toward the green and the Green Jacket.  Two nations, once at war, now at peace with a son of Sendai winning America’s, and probably the world’s, most prestigious trophy in golf.

It doesn’t get any better than that.

Rolland Kidder

Naval Historical Foundation: Brown Water Bluejackets

I was recently asked to participate in this round table discussion on Vietnam Riverine Warfare in the Mekong Delta.  Although lengthy, its quite a fascinating mix of historical and first hand perspectives of the role of the Navy in the Delta region and how they leveraged a unique mix of assets and strategies to keep the waterways safe and navigable.

"This panel of historians and veterans relate their first hand experiences containing an excerpt from Admiral Zumwalt's memoir On Watch describing his innovative approach to riverine operations in Vietnam, as well as vignettes detailing the in-theater experiences of Vice Admiral David Robinson, Captain Richard Krulis, and Lieutenant Rolland Kidder, three veterans of the brown water warfare who discuss the war in greater depth as part of an ongoing webinar series on naval history."

Rolland Kidder

Lowering the Decibel Level

 

I don’t know about you, but I am pleased that pronouncements from the White House have substantially decreased under our newly-elected President.

For the past four years, you could almost count on getting 3 or 4 “tweets” in the early morning hours many of which were attacks or controversial statements which would then dominate the news cycle for the next 24 hours.  It left you feeling out-of-breath.

Some of the “tweets” concerned the usual political targets like the “Democratic Socialists” or “left-wing enemies” like Nancy Pelosi.  But, some were focused on people who had been appointed by the administration itself—think about poor Jeff Sessions, the Attorney General, or even General “Mad Dog” Mattis who had been appointed Defense Secretary with great flourish and flash before falling out of favor.

The culture wars of who was wrong and why, the search for disunion and controversy was continual and constant.

Fast forward to today—boring, old, tight-lipped “Common Joe” Biden.  We have gone from the frying pan into the cold room.  We are finding out again that there is more to life than pronouncements from the White House.

We are finding out again that there is more to life than pronouncements from the White House.

The “truth-be-told” is that I think we are all a bit relieved and appreciative of the change in tone.  All of our problems have not gone away nor have our differences vanished.   But, we are talking more now of how we can attack our common problems instead of each other—getting the country vaccinated and fixing up our crumbling infrastructure. 

I know that the comparison is not completely accurate, but my reading of history takes me back to the years after the end of World War II.  The country was exhausted, out-of-breath.  It had come out of a terrible and costly war.  Rationing and deprivation had driven the home economy for an extended period of time.  People just wanted to take a break, live their lives, and get back together.

In 1952, they would elect as President a rather “ho-hum” quiet man of few words, General Dwight D. Eisenhower.  He would focus on rebuilding the post-war economy, strengthening international agreements, and building a huge new system of Interstate highways.  Home building also flourished.   When asked how he would define America, Eisenhower made the commonplace statement that it was a country where you could have a barbecue in your own backyard.

However you describe the time we are in now, I think we all could agree that after the past four years and the battle against COVID, it is time to take a break from our culture wars.  Pouring kerosene on our differences is emotionally exhausting.  We all may not be able to have a barbecue in our own backyard, but we can work on common challenges together and hope that each and everyone gets a “shot” at the American dream. 

I, for one, am glad that the “decibel level” in our public discourse has been lowered a bit so that we can again focus on our common aspirations as Americans.

Rolland Kidder

Missing the Draft

I am  a U.S. Navy Vietnam veteran, though not entirely by choice.  One reason I joined the Navy is because I didn’t want to get drafted into the Army. 

From just before World War II until 1973, after the Vietnam War, every American male reaching the age of 18 was subject to the draft.  That was the way we provided the manpower for our military.  Had there had been no draft, I may never have chosen to enlist in the Navy.

What the draft did was to throw together Americans from all regions and walks-of-life into the same basket.  I had been raised here, in a relatively sheltered rural, small-town community in Upstate New York.  I had never really gotten to know people from El Paso, Texas; Brooklyn, NY or Tulsa, Oklahoma before serving in the military.  I had never really gotten to know someone who was Jewish or Japanese; really poor or really rich; minimally-educated or better-educated—until I went into the Navy.   The Navy was the mixing-pot that became my way of finding out who I was as an American.

I recently read an article by the columnist David Brooks which stated:  “Real change seems to involve putting bodies from different groups in the same room, on the same team, and in the same neighborhood.  That’s national service programs.”  That is what the draft was—a national service program.  Instead of being in a same group-think, echo chamber—in the military, we got to know and understand each other and experience a true cross-section of America.

“Too much of the ‘I’ and too little of the ‘We.’”

A similar thought was expressed in a video lecture I recently watched by the philosopher/theologian Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks of Great Britain.  (Sacks died this past year of cancer.)  Sacks said that the primary problem we have today is:  “Too much of the ‘I’ and too little of the ‘We.’”  He then commented that he thought the greatest description of who Americans were, was to be found in the words:  “We the People.”

The thoughts of both Sacks and Brooks resonate with me.  Neither endorsed a military draft.  But I can attest that it was the draft, my serving in the military with fellow Americans, which significantly broadened my views as a citizen of this country.

Today, one of my great disappointments has been the unfulfilled promise that modern communications and social media would somehow make us more informed citizens with a larger world view.  Instead, it has given us more echo-chambers where we can shut out voices that don’t see things our way.

How, as Brooks described, do we get more people “in the same room?”  I believe we need a mandate of national service.  Let our young people, both men and women, serve for a period of time in the national interest.  Let them choose between a military and civilian option.  But, somehow, we need to expose future generations of Americans to the common purposes and ideals of this country.

We don’t need to call it a “draft.” Call it a “national service requirement” or something else—but we need to get back to it.  We need some kind for program to put us in the same room so that we can begin understanding and talking with each other again.  Somehow, we have lost that along the way.

Rolland Kidder