They remember the grin first. Fuzzy Zoeller’s genius was never just in the way he shaped a shot, but in how he softened the sharp edges of pressure with humor. In 1979, he walked into Augusta a rookie and walked out in a green jacket, smiling through a playoff that would have broken lesser men. In 1984 at Winged Foot, he waved a white towel in mock surrender to Greg Norman, then came back the next day and won the U.S. Open with the same easy charm.
Behind the jokes was a fierce competitor and a devoted husband and father. He turned pro in 1973, collected 10 PGA Tour victories, then carried his charisma to the Champions Tour, course design, and business ventures. Crowds didn’t just watch Zoeller; they felt welcomed by him. His death leaves an empty space on the fairways he brightened, and a lasting reminder that greatness can be joyful, generous, and human.
