Lee Trevino holed out for eagle on the 13th at the PNC Championship. Then he grabbed a microphone and delivered something far more memorable than the shot itself.

The 86-year-old Hall of Famer stood beside his son Daniel at the Ritz-Carlton Golf Club in Orlando, fresh off a 60-degree wedge that tracked a little draw straight into the cup. The Golf Channel interview began with laughter, and it ended with 100,000 people watching a man confront his own mortality on camera.

“The reason I do this and the reason that I promote it and play as I do now is that the Lord, for some reason, gave me a tremendous amount of talent,” Trevino said. “And I’m going to meet Him pretty soon, and I damn sure don’t want Him to be disappointed.”

The words landed like a struck bell. No rehearsal. No filter. Just an 86-year-old man telling the truth about time running out — and refusing to waste what remains.

But before the confession came the comedy. Trevino explained his wedge precision with typical Merry Mex flair.

“I’ve been digging worms,” he said. “White birds followed me, and they got them so fat they only followed nine holes because I had so many worms for it.”

The joke cracked open the interview’s emotional architecture. Trevino has weaponized humor his entire life — a survival mechanism forged on a cotton farm in Dallas, sharpened in the Marine Corps, and deployed across six decades of professional golf. The man who once said he talks to his ball because nobody else listens was doing what he has always done: disarming the room before delivering the punch.

“Golf has given me everything,” Trevino continued. “You’re looking at an uneducated guy. You’re looking at a guy who came off a cotton farm. You’re looking at a guy who got in a lot of trouble as a teenager and ended up in the Marine Corps for four years, and that’s kind of straightened my life out. And then I discovered golf.”

He paused. The weight of six major championships — two U.S. Opens, two Open Championships, two PGA Championships — compressed into a single breath.

“I would live on the driving range today if you put a bed and a tent on the driving range. I would sleep there. If I got up at midnight, I would put a candle on and hit low wedge shots somewhere.”

Fans flooded social media, calling Trevino an “American Treasure.” PGA Tour pro Michael S. Kim captured the sentiment many felt: “Just remembered, he even said he liked my swing! Def a highlight of 2025 for me.”

That reaction wasn’t a surprise. It was recognition. Golf knows what it has in Trevino — and what it stands to lose.

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Lee Trevino’s Journey: From a cotton farm to six majors

The improbability of Lee Trevino still defies calculation. He grew up poor in Texas, learned the game as a caddie, and didn’t turn professional until age 26. By 44, he had captured his final major at Shoal Creek. He remains one of only four players to win the U.S. Open, Open Championship, and PGA Championship twice each. The Masters eluded him — the only gap in an otherwise complete resume.

Team Trevino finished T16 at 17-under par, sixteen strokes behind the record-setting Team Kuchar. The scorecard was irrelevant. At 86, Trevino was the oldest competitor in the field after Gary Player’s withdrawal, playing from the blue tees reserved for super-seniors. He walked all 36 holes alongside Daniel — his partner for nearly three decades at the only tournament he’s never missed since its 1995 inception.

In previous PNC Championship appearances, Trevino has been known for sharing his knowledge freely — a trait fans have called “priceless” and “invaluable.” This year, he shared something deeper: the finite math of a life well-lived.

The broadcast commentator summed it up cleanly: “When you’re with Lee, learn a little bit and laugh a lot.”

In an era consumed by money wars and merger negotiations, Trevino’s two-and-a-half minutes reminded golf what it sometimes forgets. The sport isn’t just about purses and points. It’s about fathers and sons walking fairways together. It’s about second chances and borrowed time.

Lee Trevino wants to come back next year. He said so himself.

The white birds will be waiting.