Last time I saw Dan Hicks – at Merionat the US Amateur in August – it was like every time I saw it Dan Hicks. A joy He was sitting in a cart and hanging out with two of his NBC Sports colleagues just off 16, Merion’s famous Quarry Hole, a rugged par-4 with a second shot over a rocky bluff to an impossible sledding-hill green. Merion’s most famous hole, or one of them. It was a hot summer afternoon, the day’s play was over, Dan’s dinner reservation at a good place was probably in place, and time had stopped, or at least slowed down.
Dan Hicks knows Merion intimately, as he knows many USGA courses intimately, Winged foot especially, where he was a long member. Dan was into golf. Not as an obsessive, but as a true game lover. He was one of their best broadcasters and his network had the USGA contract for many years. Dan covered Justin Rose’s win in Merion, live and in person, in 2013. He should be making return trips to Merion for years to come. After all, he was only 64 and at the top of his game when…
He slows things down here as a kind of tribute to Dan, who was always kind, funny, smart — and unhurried. You may know that no haste is impossible in his line of work. That’s why he was a broadcast legend, in golf, in football, in basketball, in the Olympics, in different news desks. He was still calm amidst the constant chaos that accompanies the red light of live TV. He was always gracious in his public life. And he was a real person in his private life, full of stories and insights. Wherever he was, he always seemed to have time, even with all the juggling that you have to do when you manage the demands, and the joys, of career and family and friendship.
Dan Hicks died on Wednesday, November 11, at the age of 64, from an acute illness that was not named. Golf has lost one of its greatest ambassadors, and other sports will say the same. He was a star shortstop in the winter and third baseman in the spring on his public high school teams in Tucson, Arizona, in the late 1970s, and he knew his way around all manner of leagues and a full slate of Olympic sports. But golf was at home for him. In a tournament week, wherever you saw Dan – in a restaurant, in a hotel lobby, in the compound of NBC Sports, on the course – he was never angry. He always seemed to be where he needed and where he wanted to be. He always seemed to be with the people he liked. What a wonderful way to live.
I stumbled into a familiar scene that Saturday night in Merion in August. We talked about the ridiculous sums LIV Golf had a strip and a fish house on the Shinnecock Canal where we had two meals during the US Open. We talked about how much unnecessary talk there is now on golf broadcasts. “Don’t get me started,” Dan said, but he was off and running.
From time to time, although not on this occasion, we will talk about his wife, ESPN broadcaster Hannah Storm. Hannah’s mother was also a Hannah, and Dan and Hannah have three daughters, one of whom is also another Hannah. Hannah’s father was a legendary basketball executive, Mike Storen, a founder of the Indiana Pacers. Hannah Storm went to Notre Dame in South Bend, Ind. Dan covers Notre Dame football. They met next, but split Notre Dame, and Dan was scheduled to cover Saturday’s Notre Dame-Boston College game. From the day they met, Hannah and Dan could share South Bend. When you’ve lived life like Dan lived life, finding common ground is second nature.
It makes the world smaller and more inviting, all this connection. Dan, in a broadcast booth, was inviting. You would say the same Jim Nantzby Mike Tirico, by Jim McKay, in the day. Everyone had a gift to bring you. Dan loved people. It makes all the difference in the world.
He was fantastic in those odd Sunday interviews he had to do with various business leaders who represented, often with comic stiffness, the tournament’s sponsor. These interviews will typically eat four good minutes in the name of promoting a charity with the devotion of Acme Corp. Dan did these interviews with a wink and a smile and a certain lightness that no one else could match. They were fun to watch, in their own strange way, because of what Dan brought them, a kind of appropriate impishness.
He wore dresses to US Opens and British Opens and jeans while eating out with his mates on Saturday nights on the road. He was a handsome man with a strong sense of style and had a definite presence without ever being a showboater. My goodness, he made the class at the annual Golf Writers dinner in Augusta every time he was there.
Dan and I shared a lot. Time and place and age, to name three fast. I have known her, casually and a little more, for 30 years. “The best times were those early Tiger years,” Dan said that day at Merion. “It was so good. It was exciting just to be a witness to it.” Not his exact words, but close to it. Dan knew he was preaching to the choir, I said the same thing.
Dan knew, as we all know, that a complicated and difficult person could be Tiger, so full of contradictions. But he didn’t look for or expect perfection from him, and he wasn’t even looking away. It covered the greatness. On that Saturday night at Merion, Dan was just enjoying the memory of it, the intense pleasure of seeing a difficult thing done well. Tiger won the 1995 US Amateur at Newport Country Club. (Dan was there.) Tiger won the 2008 US Open at Torrey Pines. (Dan was there.) Tiger winning the 2018 Tour Championship at East Lake. (Dan was there.) Dan will call the action, for millions of viewers. You were there because Dan Hicks was there. You will have it forever. Dan also did a difficult thing well.
He worked side by side with Johnny Miller for two decades. On several occasions, I was able to hang out with them before and during their broadcasts. NBC’s golf crew, its on-air people and directors and camera operators and spotters, are a special group, starting at the top, with Tommy Roy, the longtime producer. Hicks was especially close to Roger Maltbie and Jimmy Roberts, along with Bob Costas and Jim “Bones” Mackay and Mike Tirico and others. My guess is that Dan came up with “The Course Whisperer” for Maltbie because Dan was so comfortable with pop culture and knew about “The Horse Whisperer”, the book and the movie. Dan has seen a lot of movies and read a lot of books. He also read a lot of wine lists. He could imitate anyone, expert. The wine helped.
A few years ago I asked Dan how many times he had had dinner with Johnny. “Never,” said Dan. “No one knows what Johnny does after the show. We don’t even see him go.” Hicks was a perfect sideman for Miller. The path he cleared allowed John to be John. Neither was a corporate smoothie. Neither was ever on autopilot. They don’t have boring Sunday hype. They just let things happen and led us to the shots that mattered and the people who took them. Dan opened doors for Johnny, tournament after tournament, and that made all the difference.
Dan could shoot 81 on a good day, and he played fast and consistent golf. He loved to play and played everywhere. I was once in a frame with Dan and Jim Herman, the Tour player, at Pine Valley. Jim was on fire from the first hole. Dan, walking down a fairway and loud enough for everyone to hear, said, “How is this guy not top 10 every week?”
In turn, Dan had a call every time Jim rolled in a birdie putt: “The Hermanator!” He shot 64 that day. When the shift was over, Jim Herman felt like the second coming of Ben Hogan. Hogan at Merion at the ’50 Open – like what you do good. Someone will win the 2030 US Open at Merion, but no one will be able to fill Dan’s shoes.
Dan Hicks had an unusual ability to make people feel good. Golf will be in mourning for a long time here.
Michael Bamberger welcomes your comments at Michael.Bamberger@Golf.com.
