In Moscow, where golf once was considered a capitalist tool of wealthy Americans, Russians raise a glass to the Bear, a symbol of national identity.
But Jack Nicklaus, a golden bear of a golfer if ever there was one, is careful not to toast his health too much. There is work to do, and Nicklaus needs to keep his wits if he is to succeed as golf's ambassador to the world, a role he relishes.
Plus, Jack isn't fond of the hard stuff.
"I don't drink at all, and of course the last contract we signed some papers and that comes with vodka and I'm sitting there saying, 'Oh, boy, that's not my style,' " Nicklaus said, chuckling at the memory of a recent trip to the Russian capital, where he is regarded as the Tsar of Golf.
Straight vodka?
"Oh, yeah, straight vodka," Jack confirmed, smiling. "I touched my lips (with it) and that's about it."
Passing on the potato mash is considered a lack of protocol in Russia, but Nicklaus gets a pass because he is so revered by the powers that be, and by the Moscow mayor in particular, that he could probably spit the clear spirits on the floor and be forgiven. After all, he is bringing golf to a country that for most of the past century didn't know a sand wedge from a driver. And once this game gets its hooks into you, well, even Russia's 11 time zones won't be wide enough to handle all the high handicappers who can't wait to hit the links.
"They've never played the game before and have no knowledge whatsoever of it," Nicklaus said. "It's a clean canvas, and that's one of the things that are good, because we're able to shape the game and the future of the game in that country."
Who better to introduce golf to a birdie-less society than one of the greatest gentlemen and best players in the game's long history?
This is where Nicklaus needs to be -- selling the game overseas -- now that his playing days are behind him. And they are behind him.
"I played Sunday for the first time since the middle of March," he said. "I played the back tees (at Muirfield) and broke 80 only because I cheated a little bit."
Not that he doesn't miss the competition -- "That was my life," he said -- but his juices now flow from creating courses for countries that are just beginning to value the game.
"It's given me the opportunity to (apply) some of the things I've learned through playing golf," he said.
Nicklaus had an opportunity to squeeze his design business into the Soviet Union about 25 years ago but turned down the offer because he did not want to be associated with a communist regime. The door reopened several years ago, complete with a big welcome sign. Russia wants to do with golf what it has done with its national tennis program; train young athletes to become the next Tiger Woods.
The payback for Nicklaus, beyond the sense of accomplishment for contributing to a culture's recreational growth, is discovering a world beyond his own backyard. He recently completed a 13-day trip through former Eastern bloc countries and also has made recent travels through India, Africa and Asia, including a journey into China.
Everywhere he goes, golf gains a stronger foothold and Nicklaus gains a greater appreciation for other cultures.
"Russia has grown on me," he said. "When we first started going there, they were the unhappiest people I've ever seen, never a smile. That has continually changed since they've become more international."
Or maybe since they began to play golf? For that, the Bear should be proud.
Rob Oller is a sports reporter for The Dispatch
