Everybody’s going to remember Arnie. Jack Nicklaus was the Tiger Woods-type talent of that generation, but Palmer was the fan favorite. He’s like that favorite grandpa — you have the one grandpa who’s very stern, and you have the other grandpa who shakes your hand and slips you a $20. That was Arnie. He was a Hall of Famer and an unbelievable golfer, but people are going to talk about the person more than the player.

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Jose was on his way to becoming that type of athlete. He was a huge talent; you would pay the price of admission just to see him pitch. But he meant more than that. Before I met him, I already had the utmost respect for what he went through to get to the United States. Everything I’d read — trying to defect from Cuba three times, saving his mother from drowning on their journey to Florida — was heartwarming, chilling, brave. When I finally got the chance to get to know him a little bit, I liked him immediately. His charisma and passion were overwhelming.

And he was the same way as a player: passionate. I saw him pitch in his second-to-last start, against the Braves. I looked at him and said, “It’s going to be a long night. He’s got that look in his eyes.” There was a bench-clearing incident, which was not the first one involving Jose at a Marlins-Braves matchup. Playing against Jose, it was easy to dislike him because of some of those antics. But I know that the same Braves players who clashed with him on the field would go out to dinner with him during the course of the series. They knew it was Jose being Jose. What happened on the field was just his exuberance, and it was part of what made him magnetic. The famous joy he showed at a Giancarlo Stanton home run — he wasn’t even pitching in that game. We can be so businesslike and tight-collared in this world and in the game of baseball, and it was refreshing to see a kid who just loves life and loves the game.

Even though the Braves had a beef with him two weeks ago, there was an outpouring of emotion and solace from the team at the news of his death. I think we all realized the game of baseball suffered a tremendous loss, not only because of the talent that was lost, but also because he meant so much to a lot of different people and was an ambassador for so many groups: the Marlins, Cubans and Latin Americans. Here in the South, he continues to be a god. For a 24-year-old like Jose to have this many fans, to draw people in with not only his talent but also the kind of person he was, is remarkable.

I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting Arnold personally, though I would see him three or four times a year at golfing events. His philanthropic efforts are what I respected most about him. While the Chipper Jones Family Foundation continues to do great work and give money annually to many charities, I’m not going to kid myself and say I’m going to do it to the level of Arnold Palmer. There’s no way to live up to him. We do what we can for charitable cases that strike close to home, and that’s not such a bad thing. But Arnold was a once-in-a-generation personality.

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Players are just like anyone else. We have our heroes, too. And here’s the thing that I’m happiest about: The guys I elevated to supergalactic all-star status, I’ve never been disappointed in them. When I interact with them, I walk away and say I’m so glad they are who I thought they were. My childhood idols lived up to being galactic all-stars.

And it’s something I think about, as a player myself. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the thought of someone coming away from an interaction with me thinking I’m a bad person. Athletes are people. We have lives; we have trials and tribulations away from sports that affect us from time to time. I know I’m not always going to please everyone. I’m a very private person, but I do open up a little more than I used to. When people approach me, I try to give them a smile and a little bit of attention — I hate to have someone walk away and think I’m not who they thought. Having a wife who understands this is awesome. When people approach me and want to get a selfie together, she offers to take the picture for them. You will never hear one person say a bad word about Arnold Palmer. You can’t talk about Jose Fernandez without talking about his humanity. That’s a legacy I aspire to.

They were different men with different careers, but sports is a big umbrella. There’s room for many kinds of heroes. Arnold and Jose were both special. They were charismatic. They were bigger than their athleticism. To have people talk about who they were as people more than who they were as players — I hope that’s what happens when I pass. I hope that people talk that way about me.