A threesome reached the 14th green at Musqueam Golf and Learning Academy as Nicholas Trott set up for his tee shot on 15.
Earlier that morning, Trott arrived at the course around 6:30 a.m., as he usually did with his standard poodle Ella, to meet his friends and play a round of golf. For two years, the retired businessman had volunteered as a course marshal, ensuring players kept the right pace, helping others track lost balls, explaining rules to novices, and on Tuesdays, greeting the dozens of women who played that day each week.
His salary was paid in golf, unlimited rounds of golf, often in the morning with friends Marty, Bill and Tom.
“He made friends easily and quickly,” said his wife Gail Meek. “One of his best talents was bringing people together.”
On Friday, July 3, Trott was golfing alone. One friend was at nearby course, two others were taking care of their own responsibilities before they would eventually join him for a few holes. Trott joked with several members of the club’s popular ladies’ league. He talked with a grounds-keeper named Rich and waved at another marshal.
“You always knew when Nicholas was on the course,” said a friend. “He had a big presence. You could hear him from almost everywhere.”
On the 15th hole, not far from the Fraser River, he plunked his Bridgestone on a tee behind the blue markers and selected an iron for the 150-yard par three. Trott shot the ball, and the three women who were still putting on 14 watched as he died on his feet and fell backwards on the grass.
Marty Coulson, a staff member who was part of Trott’s regular foursome, reached the 15th tee box and flagged down another marshal as he called 911. Marty and Bill tried to revive their friend but without success. Trott had a heart attack.
At 71, he was still making connections and friends, offering his shoulder to cry on and making many laugh. As someone pointed out, “71 is one under par.”
On Tuesday, one golf ball appeared near the tee box at 15. It was a white Bridgestone since Trott was the only one at the club known to use that particular brand. Then, another ball, this one signed. Then a pot of planted purple petunias, a sand wedge and still more balls, many of them with messages.
“The last ball you gave me,” signed in pink felt pen on a Taylor Made.
“We’ll miss you so much, Nichloas.” A heart. RIP.
“Nick, you are so special,” on a Nike ball.
“Helloooo Nick!”
“This is beyond golf,” said the club’s general manager Kumi Kimura. “It’s beyond the game and if it were not for this game, none of us would know each other.”
As another marshal said, “It’s not easy for the people around you when you die instantly. But him, what a better way to go.”
Trott’s friends and the staff at Musqueam looked for the Bridgestone he shot before he died. It’s still lying where it landed, somewhere on the course he loved.
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