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Article_JackMatheson_Layout 1 18-07-19 5:21 PM Page 1

The institution:

Jack Matheson

By Bruce Penton

ne of the most familiar faces around the Clear Lake Golf Course
is that of Jack Matheson, a Brandonite who had a stellar hockey
Ocareer with the Wheat Kings before taking up a school teaching
profession in Winnipeg.
These days, you’ll see Matty’s smiling face around the pro shop, where
he helps to make sure things run smoothly in the world of booking tee
times, paying green fees, organizing cart rentals, and clothing sales.
“Great story about Jack Matheson,” harrumphs Bill Johnston of
Winnipeg, a judge. “He won two consecutive Tamaracks — 14 years apart.”
That hardly makes sense, of course, but Johnston adds the explanation.
Matheson won in 1972 (beating George Sigurdson, Jr. of Winnipeg for his
second title in three years) and then ran a summer hockey school in
Winnipeg in August to augment his teaching income for the next decade-
plus. The hockey school dates conflicted with the Tamarack, so it was 14 Jack Matheson circa 1968
years later, 1986, before Matheson was again able to enter the (above) and 1987 (below).
tournament. He won that year, too.
Matheson remembers beating Sigurdson, Jr., in the 1972 championship
final, and remembers an incident on the first playoff hole that decided the
match, but talked about it only when pressed by a reporter.
Matheson’s drive on that first extra hole came to rest on the upslope of
the first green, while Sigurdson hit a drive a little left and then wedged onto
the green, about 20 feet away.
The eventual winner settled over his ball to try to chip it close, but
suddenly backed off, stood up and announced to Sigurdson and the gallery:
“My ball moved. I’m hitting three.”
No one but Matheson had seen the slight movement of the ball, but golf
being a game played by honourable people who are expected to call
penalties on themselves — it was the only thing to do.
“It’s tough to live with yourself if that happens and you don’t call it,” said
Matheson, who chipped close enough for a “gimme” par 4. Sigurdson,
meanwhile, three-putted for five, and Matheson was crowned that year’s
champion.
Matheson chuckles while recalling a story from the 1950s involving Roy
Bell, who owned the Mooswa cabins and whose brother Bill owned the
Idylwylde resort at Clear Lake. Roy was not generally a strong
championship-calibre golfer, but he got hot on qualifying day one year and
tied for the low score with Winnipeg’s Harry Critchly, who had finished a
few hours earlier and was back at his cabin enjoying a few adult beverages.
“Harry had been told he was home free (about being the medallist),” said
Matheson. “Suddenly, Roy tied him and somebody had to go the cabin and
get Critchly to come back for the playoff.”
Critchly, according to Matheson, was “in no shape to play golf” and, in
fact, “had to have some help in teeing up the ball.”
“He was madder than hell that he had to take part in this playoff,” recalls
Matheson.
Not surprisingly, Bell emerged the playoff winner and took the medallist
honours.
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