The King holds court

If Arnold Palmer chooses to have his press conference at 9 a.m., you get up and go. If he hits off the first tee at Augusta National at 8 a.m., you get up and go. If he invites you to play in his tournament, you should go. If he asked you to come clean his gutters at dawn, you'd get up and go.

Arnold Palmer is 78 years old. And after more than 50 years of holding court on the world stage, you don't take these things for granted.

So we all dutifully and reverantly arrived on Wednesday at the Bay Hill Club & Lodge and took our seats and took off our hats (most, at least) and endured an awkward sponsor introduction to listen to the King hold court.

As always, there was a little news. Mr. Palmer confirmed that he will return to Augusta National Golf Club on the 50th anniversary of his first Masters victory and reprise his role as the honorary starter. And in an added bonus, he said he has "given considerable thought" to joining fellow legend Jack Nicklaus in the Par 3 Contest on Wednesday.

"I have had the starter at the Par 3 register me to start," he said. "I don't know whether I will or not."

All good news. But the best nuggets from Palmer this day came once again when the old man in him came to the forefront. Arnie is never more entertaining and engaging than when he gets on one of his senior rants.

This one came in response to a question about what influence he hopes to have on successive generations of golfers.

"I don't know where a player comes off, a young player particularly, that is being asked to give an autograph and he scribbles something down there that you can't read," he said. "Well, who in the hell knows what it is? Why take the time to do it? Why not make it legible? Jack Nicklaus, you can read. You never have a question about Jack Nicklaus's autograph or Gary Player's autograph, But then all of a sudden you run into something that this looks like a scribble. I don't understand. So if I can influence him, if you're going to give an autograph, make it legible so that people know what the hell they have in their hand."

There was more.

"Be cordial," said the King of cordial. "You don't have to stop and talk all day with someone, be cordial to them and then get on with what you're doing. If I can influence them in that way, I think that would be very good. Most of my feelings are how you act."

And then this.

"If you walk up here to this clubhouse and you go in the dining room, on the door in front of the dining room there's a sign," he said. "It says: 'Gentlemen, please remove your hats.' That's no big deal, but I've had arguments with these guys about wearing their hats when they are eating with ladies at the table or their children at the table. If I can influence them that way, I am going to do it. I can promise you that. And I will personally walk in and ask them to take their hats off when that arises."

"I don't know if you ask them," PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem interjected.

"I won't comment," Palmer replied with a wide smile.

So after 62 wins and seven major titles, this is a legacy most will remember.

"I'm pleased that I was able to do what I did from a golfing standpoint. I would like to think that I left them more than just that."

Sadly, not everybody gets the message. Mr. Palmer was cordial enough to invite John Daly to his tournament on a sponsors exemption. Yet while the King was addressing the media, Daly was missing his pro-am tee time and adding another self-destructive chapter to his autobiography.

If only John had bothered to get up a time or two and listen to advice from a true master at the craft of being a gentleman. He would at least have known to get up and go honor his tee time.