Jim Greenbach – a Comeback Story You’ll Never Forget
- Marty Turcios
- Jul 27
- 3 min read
Updated: Aug 11
Some people master the rules of golf. Jim Greenbach mastered the art of coming back.
This is not just a story of a man who returned to golf after being diagnosed with ALS. This is about defying expectations, redefining disability, and proving that passion doesn't disappear—it adapts.
Meeting Cadillac Jim – A Chance Encounter That Changed Everything
In the early 1980s, fresh out of college, I was working at the Recreation Center for the Handicapped in San Francisco. I played regularly at Lincoln Park, a quirky yet iconic course with views of the Golden Gate Bridge.
One Sunday, while preparing to tee off, I noticed a very tall man with two canes standing alone. I introduced myself and asked if the man—Jim Greenbach—was going to play in the tournament. Jim replied he couldn’t. ALS had taken away his ability to play.
I simply told him, “If you want to play golf, you can,” then walked away.
That moment sparked something.
A Life Built on Competition, Cut Short Too Soon
Jim Greenbach was no stranger to athletic excellence. He was a former pitcher at Arizona State, (with teammates of Reggie Jackson and Sal Bando) and his team won the College World Series twice while on the team. Jim was signed by the Cleveland Indians but his career was cut short by an elbow injury during spring training. He pivoted, starting a successful accounting business in Pacifica, CA.
Even after retiring from baseball, Jim remained a competitive golfer, playing elite courses like the Olympic Club and Harding Park. But ALS—the disease that took Lou Gehrig—was relentless. Jim lost muscle control. His fingers twisted. His swing vanished.
What didn't vanish was his will.
The Comeback Nobody Saw Coming
It started small. Jim began practicing putts with his cane. Then, he brought his clubs. Then, a piece of Astroturf with a rubber tee. He teed off from it on every shot, even in the fairway.
Jim’s strokes weren’t long, but they were accurate. Week after week, his game improved. Soon, he was beating me and I knew he could do more. And that’s when I told him—friendly but firm—“You can’t tee up from the fairway anymore.”
Jim adjusted again. He figured out how to hit the ball directly from the grass. Within weeks, he was breaking 90. Soon after, the 80s.
Redefining the Game – Jim’s Adapted Golf Technique
Jim Greenbach rewrote the rules—not the official ones, but the mental ones. His approach to golf involved:
Custom teeing methods using a rubber mat
Relying on controlled strength over raw distance
Strategic positioning and course management
Using his cane as part of his pre-shot routine
Instead of seeing limitations, Jim saw possibilities. His presence reminded others that the soul of golf lies in problem-solving and persistence.
More Than Just a Golfer – Jim’s Impact on Lincoln Park
Jim became a symbol of grit at Lincoln Park. Other players, inspired by his efforts, began viewing the game differently. He wasn't just welcomed—he was celebrated. He was voted an honorary member of the club and nicknamed “Cadillac Jim,” because his blend of class and courage made him unforgettable.
When I moved to Augusta in 2016, word came that Jim had passed. By then, Jim had lived 30 years post-diagnosis—stunning, considering ALS often claims lives within 5 years.
A Legacy of Resilience and Friendship
Jim and I played together for 25 years. Our bond wasn't forged on fairways alone. It was cemented by shared challenges, honest competition, and mutual respect.
Jim’s journey wasn't just about golf—it was about reclaiming a life. He became stronger and to the amazement of his doctors, he wasn't relegated to walking canes. He ate steak dinners, laughed often, and played the game he loved. Through golf, he got back 80% of his life. The other 20%? That came from the friendships he built.
Cadillac Jim’s 25-Year Victory Lap
ALS rarely allows for second chances. But Jim Greenbach took one anyway. His story shows how tailored physical routines and unwavering willpower can defy even the most rigid medical forecasts.
For Jim, the first tee wasn’t just the start of a round. It was a declaration: “I’m still here.”
Every swing said more than words ever could. From wheelchair to fairway, Jim took the longest victory lap imaginable.
He didn’t just survive ALS—he beat it on his terms.
This BLOG was written for educational purposes. For more information, please reach out to support@therapeuticgolfclinic.com
