Even if you don’t golf, you’ll love this profile by long-time Boston Globe sports columnist Kevin Paul Dupont. For as long as I can remember, Dupont has covered the Bruins mixed in with wonderful stories related to sports and life.
If you visit Your Survival Guy in Newport, RI, from the north and take Rte. 24 South over the Sakonnet River Bridge, you will pass the Montaup Country Club on your right. Chances are you will also see golfers regardless of the weather. This is New England, after all, and if you wait to pick the right day, you may never leave the house. Three days a week, 104-year-old Arthur Medeiros tees it up with three others or whoever has the guts to get out there. Medeiros is a WWII veteran, musician, husband, father, truck driver, and golfer.
Dupont writes:
There are only good and better days out here for Arthur Medeiros. He has golfed at Montaup Country Club for more than 40 years, gets around its 18 holes with a familiarity on par with how Einstein navigated E=mc2, and faithfully plays three rounds every week when the weather’s right.
“Light rain, he’ll play. Temps in the 40s, no snow on the ground, Arthur’s on the course,’’ mused Eddie Cabral, fellow Montaup member and a regular Medeiros playing partner. “He just plays. And don’t let his age fool you. He’s super, super competitive. All Arthur cares about is playing and playing well.’’
All the more reason Cabral was caught by surprise one recent autumn day when his old pal surrendered after four holes and retreated to the warmth of the clubhouse. Factoring in the stiff wind off Narragansett Bay, noted Cabral, the real-feel temperature had dipped to nearly the freezing mark.
Mother Nature doesn’t set the tee times, but she can be one cruel course marshal for a man 104 years old.
“A bunch of the guys said, ‘Nah, I’m not playing . . . too cold . . . too windy,’ ’’ said Cabral, who keeps close watch on his friend when they’re on the course. “Arthur that day was one of only six who even went out. All these guys said no and Arthur’s calling ’em all ‘a bunch of weenies.’ But in he goes after four holes. We finish, and I see him inside and he says, ‘Eddie, I’m just starting to get the feeling back in my fingers.’ ’’
Not hard to understand why Medeiros has had his fill of cold and snow. Along with myriad war injuries, including one that for weeks left him paralyzed from the waist down in a World War II field hospital, winter’s chill largely frames the wartime horrors he witnessed — and survived — particularly his long, bone-chilling days at the Battle of the Bulge.
“Ask anyone who was there then, they’ll tell you. Yeah, the fighting was bad, but it was the cold,’’ said Medeiros, thinking back to the winter of 1944-45, particularly his six weeks in the hellscape of Ardennes. “They said it was the coldest winter in Europe in 100 years; just snow all the time and cold, cold, cold. My God. There’s no forgetting that.’’
Born May 10, 1920, in Fall River, Medeiros is truly in a league of his own on the golf course as a steady-handed, deft-of-club centenarian. He gets around by cart, because the 18 holes would be “too tough’’ on his legs and back, where doctors surgically removed shrapnel some 15 years after the war. His eyesight has diminished in recent years as a result of macular degeneration. The bit of white paint dabbed on the top of his driver helps him identify the ball atop the tee.
“They won’t let me drive the cart anymore,’’ said Medeiros, chuckling, “not after I hit the guy.’’
Bill Gasbarro, explained Medeiros, turned his way after making a shot that day from the fairway, and essentially walked into his partner’s driving path. Down went Gasbarro. With other golfers scrambling to pick up the victim, a flustered Medeiros, his foot caught between brake and accelerator, ran him over a second time.
“Oh my god, the poor guy!’’ recalled Medeiros, unable to stifle a laugh. “His hearing aids popped out, and everyone’s on hands and knees trying to find the hearing aids. The guys are laughing like hell. I felt terrible. He called me later that night, to tell me he’d had X-rays, his knee and shoulder, on his way home.’’
Not to worry, no fractures, all would be OK, Medeiros recalls Gasbarro telling him.
“And he’s apologizing to me . . . imagine?!’’ said Medeiros, the pitch of his voice rising as his laugh grows bigger. “ ‘Don’t be sorry,’ I’m saying, ‘I ran you over!’ ’’
The laughs help. Part of the trick to living this long, said Medeiros, has been always “to look for the funny stuff.’’
Look for humor, even in the war, when the laughs were few, and the price was high even for survivors.
Action Line: Tell me your story by emailing me at ejsmith@yoursurvivalguy.com
Read Part 1 here.
