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"Always hook my irons a little," he said. "I guess I could fade it if I tried."
He powered another 2-iron Atlas missile into the sky, and this one fell gently to the right at the end of its flight, still out near the 250 mark. He hit several more. I wanted to melt into the molten impact of iron on ball, to learn, to feel how it was done.
But it is still a mystery to me, that gift. A young man on a driving range in Florida had it. There was no brag in him. It made me want to ask things like, "Who are you?" Maybe some pro slumming it? I don't think so.
So we practiced side by side, and I said, "Beautiful."