Media Contact: Tony Paul, The Detroit News
Ypsilanti — Dave Kendall has had a heck of a competitive golf career, particularly later on, in his 50s, when he won several state major tournaments, including two Michigan Senior Open titles and one Michigan Senior PGA Championship.
He’s also had 11 holes-in-one — including six in competition — and three double-eagles. The first ace for Kendall, growing up in Jackson, came when he was 17, in 1972. Problem was he skipped school to play golf that day, so he couldn’t even tell his parents.
As for the 11th ace, well, we’ll get to that in a bit.
The story of Kendall isn’t about his own legacy on the course; rather, it’s about all the legacies he’s helped so many others build as one of the most renowned golf instructors in southeast Michigan and across the state, really. He’s spent more than half a lifetime teaching beginning golfers and teaching seasoned golfers how to golf better. He’s never been a miracle worker and never claimed to be.
Rather, what has made him unique, and so revered — he’s in the Michigan Golf Hall of Fame — isn’t that he has taught so many and taught for so long. It’s how he taught. His lessons hardly have ever been just about golf, which makes sense, when you really think about it. Because golf isn’t just about golf. It’s a sport that has a way of lending itself to life lessons, like honor, integrity, etiquette and accepting bad breaks, and not giving in to them.
Taking a lesson with Kendall, you might go 20 minutes without even hitting a single ball. In many ways, he’s like Mr. Miyagi, albeit in khakis.
“He was in the academy last week teaching a lesson,” said Patrick Wilkes-Krier, a senior teaching professional at the Kendall Academy at Miles of Golf in Ypsilanti. “He was full of energy, and I could hear his voice. I could see that part of him coming. And I took a moment to take it in.
“Dave’s lessons in golf come with a lot of stories and story-telling, and what you end up learning is kind of like the life lessons along the way. More than just technical aspects … what you get from him is unique.”
These days, Kendall, 69, is kind of retired as a golf instructor, in a career that took him from head pro at Cadillac Country Club for 17 years, to his own academy, which he opened in 1997, and today employs 10 instructors.
But Kendall has one more big lesson left to give. It’s for anyone who wants to hear it, and it’s free.
Kendall is well into the back nine of his life — and he is dying.
He has Stage-4 esophageal cancer, diagnosed this past April. It has spread, including to his lungs and brain, where he had a golf ball-sized tumor removed in a mid-April surgery that left him bedridden for weeks, battling unbearable headaches and an inability to eat. He lost so much weight you’d think his belt was wrapped around him twice. His voice barely was above a whisper.
At that time, Dave and his wife, Karen, put together a long, detailed form letter/text message for friends who had reached out and hadn’t already heard about his condition that he’d never play golf again.
Surprise, surprise — that didn’t take. He’s back playing golf six days a week, knowing this will almost certainly be his last summer of golf.
Kendall has decided the best way to die is to live.
“I’ve been rolling sevens my whole life. What do I got to complain about?” Kendall said recently during a drive around Washtenaw Golf Club, which he co-owns. “I have a niece, and her husband died at 30 of leukemia because he got exposed to something in the service. He got a bad deal. Look at me. How can I complain, being (almost) 70, all the nice things that have happened in my life? I’m grateful. I’m not sad at all. I’ve never spent one day so.
“We’re all gonna go sometime.”
When he was originally diagnosed in April, Kendall was told he might have just months to live — maybe eight; maybe more, maybe less. Eight, by the way, would put him right around January, when he turns 70. He thinks he’ll make it to 70, though for the first time this year, he celebrated a half-birthday, just in case.
“Maybe,” said Kendall, “I’m one of the lucky ones.”
‘The beginning of the end’
The diagnosis came fast, and it was grim.
Cancer. No cure. This was it.
And so, too, was it the end of his golfing career, Kendall thought.
He told all his friends and family, and his co-workers, who’ve become like family over the past few years, at Washtenaw Golf Club, his days of swinging a club were over. He didn’t say it to draw pity. He said it to stick with a mantra he’s long taught his students: Have goals, but have realistic expectations.
Not every golfer can be Tiger Woods. And not every cancer patient can survive cancer, but even if you don’t, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost.
“In golf, if you finish 20th, and that’s the best you ever did, and then you finish 17th, I think that’s a win,” Kendall said. “‘But, yeah, I didn’t win.’ ‘Well, do you usually win?’ You can build on that. You try and set realistic goals. You set realistic goals, and then you try to exceed them. If you win, wonderful. But it’s not a loss when you finish better than you ever did.
“People are telling me these miracle stories of people who beat the odds and lived 10 years. That’s nice. I hope I’m one of them. I really do, and I’ll do everything I can to be that. There still are things you can’t beat. You can have the best attitude in the world.
“It doesn’t mean if you died, you had a bad attitude.”
Before his diagnosis, Kendall perhaps was in the best shape of his life. He had been walking several miles a day, trying to work his way off insulin, and he did it. He was around 150 pounds. This was last year and into early this year. Then came the trouble swallowing, the instability on his feet, and swiftly, he was diagnosed.
Within weeks, he was in bed, unable to eat and barely able to talk — to which fellow Michigan Golf Hall of Famer Lynn Janson, a good friend, quipped: “Well, that might not be so bad for the rest of us.” That’s golf; the ribbing never goes on hiatus.
Kendall was down to 129 pounds and OK with the reality of his situation, both in life and in golf.
The end was near.
But a word of advice from his younger sister, who is also battling cancer, gave Kendall some hope: Wait until the chemo treatments kick in, and then see where you are. Chemo has different effects on each person. It makes some patients sicker. It gives some patients strength. It can do both at varying times, depending on the cycles.
Sure enough, after chemo, Kendall started eating again, and in July, he started chipping and putting, and played his first round. Just nine holes, from the red tees. The golf club felt like a sledgehammer in his hands. And it felt tremendous.
“Who would’ve ever thought? In May and June, he was so sick, he could barely walk,” said Karen Kendall, Dave’s wife of 44 years — they got married after just four days of college at Ferris State, where Dave was a student in the second class at what now is a renowned professional golf management program. “We just left the oncologist. She said, ‘Do all the stuff. We don’t know how long, but enjoy it, get out there and do it.’
“It was so much pain and discomfort, and now he feels so good. I can’t believe the difference. We’re so thankful.
“We know this is the beginning of the end. We’re OK with it, because we’ve got extra time we wouldn’t have had. This whole summer has been so good.”
‘Rooting for Dave’
Eventually, Kendall progressed back to the gold tees, and then the whites (the blues, he said, are now a thing of the past). He plays mostly nine holes on most days each week — often with Karen, and often with his regular foursome. He did play 18 recently and shot an 80.
He doesn’t hit the ball like he used to; mostly, he lacks distance, and that’s understandable. He even went looking for hybrid clubs recently. Those are more forgiving versions of long-iron clubs, and they help you hit the ball higher. Kendall used to have some, but he forgot whom he loaned them to and they were never returned. So he went to eBay, found a 6-hybrid that suited his fancy, hit the Buy button, and put it in his bag earlier this month. More on that later.
Kendall mostly plays at Washtenaw, the historic club founded late in the 19th century, and which he bought just before the pandemic. The ownership group, including Steve Davis (a high-school teammate of Kendall’s, who was in Dave and Karen’s wedding) and Nick Ma (a former instructor at Kendall and owner of Nagome Sushi in Ann Arbor), has been putting significant dollars back into the course, bringing in architect Ray Hearn to lead the restoration, which has included work on the greens, tree removal and more.
Dave and Karen Kendall refer to the club staff at Washtenaw as family, and the feeling is mutual.
“I’ve never been with anybody who was as popular as Dave. I was blown away,” said Tim Czerniawski, Washtenaw’s general manager, recounting his first extended time spent with Kendall at a golf show in 2020. “This whole battle with cancer has taught me no matter what the cards you’re getting drawn, you have to look at the positive.
“I can’t believe how he’s handled this. He’s been an inspiration.
“Everybody’s rooting for Dave.” Said Doc Pearson, who’s worked at Washtenaw for seven years: “He did say to me, ‘Doc, I don’t know if I’ll play again.’ I said, ‘Dave, who knows? And if you can’t, you’ve given the game everything you can.”
“He’s just gotten better and better. It’s just amazing. It’s been something to watch,” Pearson continued. “Going through what he’s going through … and he just still comes in here with a smile on his face, ‘Let’s make sure everyone’s having a good time on the golf course.'”
Ace in the hole
Golf is arguably the toughest sport on the planet. It can’t be perfected. Your game can be great one day and trash the next. It also can be totally unfair. You could hit the shot of your life, and it could strike the flag stick square and ricochet 30 yards back and into sand or water. It’s how you respond, and not the shot, that defines you.
Kendall, with his diagnosis, hit the flag stick and moved on. Dying isn’t a choice. Everyone does it, eventually. Living life to its fullest, though, certainly is a choice, one that Kendall — predictably to all those he’s played with and worked with and taught over his five-plus decades in the sport, lives by.
“I’ve often said, if you’re looking to hire somebody, play nine holes of golf. That’s better than sitting in a four-hour interview. You know so much about their personality, their integrity, their demeanor,” said Michigan PGA executive director Kevin Helm, who’s known Kendall since the 1990s and has so much respect for him that he sent his own son, Ian, to work with Kendall on his game when he was in high school. “It tells you just everything about them.
“There’s all the life lessons. (Battling) adversity, setting goals, all kinds of examples you can relate from the game to life, in general. I think that’s probably why it’s one of the greatest games. I love all sports. I don’t think I’d make the same analogies with basketball.”
Those close to Kendall believe his return to the golf course has helped improve his physical and emotional health. Truth is, it’s also helped those close to Kendall — and there are a lot of people close to Kendall. In many ways, he’s getting to say his goodbyes (not everyone’s afforded that opportunity), and so they are, including the star high-school golfer who saw Kendall recently on his league night (yep, he’s back playing in his weekly league), came up to him, hugged him, shed some tears and told him how much he meant to her. This girl had never opened up to him before, not like that, not at all.
Kendall broke down.
“I think for a lot of Dave’s life, he’s … created relationships and a life that has very few regrets,” said Wilkes-Krier, of the Kendall Academy.
“In some ways, I hope he’s found himself lucky as he’s looked back.”
Kendall got into the game as a kid in Jackson, and honed his game at Cadillac Country Club, where he became the head pro, before starting his own academy after he was one of the first two Ferris State Professional Golf Management students to gain official classification as a PGA head golf professional. Twice, Kendall was named Michigan’s golf professional of the year, and twice he was named Michigan’s teacher of the year. He previously served as president of the Michigan Section of the PGA. He played in the Senior PGA Championship. Golf Digest annually ranks the top teachers in every state, and Kendall is always near the top of Michigan’s list. Golf Range Magazine has named him a top-50 teacher in the country.
Kendall was inducted into the Jackson Golf Hall of Fame in 2011, the Michigan PGA Hall of Fame in 2013 and the Michigan Golf Hall of Fame in 2015, mostly for his instruction and service to the sport, but also for his skills. He really surged in his 50s and he’s won numerous tournaments, though he’s not one to give you an exact count or list.
He’s always been a competitor on the course — and, when he was younger, in football, basketball and baseball — and that competitive nature lives on today (he played in an outing this past weekend at Ferris with Karen, a former college classmate and a former student, and they won, with a 53), even if he’s a bit softer-spoken, a little weaker, and his newest, toughest opponent, cancer, isn’t beatable.
Kendall, who has two sons — Bob, a certified financial adviser, and Scott, a musician — along with two granddaughters, is getting three-day chemotherapy treatments every other week, and there’s been some immunotherapy, too. One of the weeks, he wears a port for a few days, through a fanny pack. He doesn’t care much for that, but, hey, don’t sweat the small stuff, right? Another lesson there.
The Kendalls have been overwhelmed by the support through his public battle with cancer, heartfelt cards coming almost every day for a man who all his life has liked just about everyone he’s come in contact with, and from all the folks who’ve liked and loved him. Golf, by nature, is an individual sport, but the team, the community, came together. Early in his diagnosis, when he was very frail and the immediate future was unclear, friends and family came to visit Dave. Karen let everyone in. She wanted them to see him. So many urged him to stay strong, and, yes, to play again.
When people would come and go, and there was a quiet moment for the two, Dave would ask Karen, “Why would anyone care if I ever hit a golf ball again?”
“Dave doesn’t see that. He’s a really humble and unassuming person,” said Karen, a retired dental hygienist. “The amount of support in the golf community is amazing, and the friendships we have, there’s so much love and support and prayers and help.
“He wants to do well. He’s super competitive.”
In his battle with cancer, of course, but also, still on the golf course. He only started playing again in July, and on the early evening of Aug. 21, Kendall stepped to the ninth tee at Washtenaw. It’s a pretty, uphill par 3, back toward the clubhouse, where several workers were milling around. The hole was playing about 150 yards, and Kendall, sheepishly, reached for that new (to him, at least) 6-hybrid.
The flag was middle left, and Kendall’s ball landed just left of the pin, kicked right and disappeared. Kendall turned to playing partner Brian Hudock and said, “I think it went in.” Hudock thought so, too. Employee Ian Smith was up by the green and had just finished picking up the range and said to Pearson, “I think I saw Mr. Kendall make a hole-in-one.” Nobody celebrated, though, because a few years back, Kendall was playing with a student and it looked like his ball disappeared, too. They celebrated, only to get up to the green and see the ball had not actually gone in.
Kendall’s ball, though, was in — more than five decades after his first one. Kendall couldn’t tell anybody about the first one, and he didn’t tell many about this one, either, because it’s not his style. Helm still hadn’t heard, as of earlier this week. (“Dave had a hole-in-one!?”) But word, of course, spread fast at the course — including to the Washtenaw clubhouse bar, as it’s tradition for the ace golfer to buy a round (fortunately, he owns the place).
Kendall, just weeks ago, was resigned to being done with the game, but the game, as it turns out, wasn’t done with him.
“Dave is obsessed with golf. He loves it,” said Wilkes-Krier, who points out he has yet to record a single ace during his decorated playing and teaching career. “And so, I’m sure that there’s some peace that he finds when he’s on the golf course that makes him feel content, even in these days of some sadness. …. It makes him feel a lot more like himself.”
“And now, he’s back to making holes-in-one.”
His first came in 1972, his 11th came in 2024 — and it might just be his last. But he’ll keep practicing, and playing, and living — and giving us all one more lasting lesson.