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116 matches in All Departments
Danny O'Malley, a fairly decent amateur golfer, is tricked into
selling his soul to the devil in exchange for a promise of winning
the richest prize ever offered in a professional tournament: Five
million dollars A history of the game and many of its greatest
players is interspersed throughout the story. Why do people from
every culture attempt to master this cruel game when there is so
little chance of success? For example, can you name a great Italian
golfer? Trust me, my friends. There are no great Italian golfers.
In the spring, when the first bold blossoms of bougainvillea splash
down the hillsides of Sicily in a glorious crimson tide and
gondoliers ply their trade along the romantic canals of Venice, a
young man is more intrigued by the upward slash of a signorina's
skirt than the downward slope of a green, and more beguiled by the
lie that rests on her lips than the lie of a dimpled white ball in
the fairway.The English, self-deprecating and stoical, are as
emotionally suited for golf as they are for espionage. They know
the fairways and greens are as duplicitous as any double agent and
will ultimately betray them. It is not a question of if, but a
matter of when. For years, Nick Faldo was the personification of a
golfing machine, an assassin of par whose deadly game struck fear
in the hearts of opponents. His sponsors tried to humanize him to
enhance the sale of their products. On rare occasions, an
involuntary twitch in the shadowy recesses of his stiff upper lip
created the fleeting illusion of a smile. But their feeble attempt
to cast the dour Brit as Prince Charming fooled no one and was as
futile an exercise as painting a happy face on the Sphinx in order
to alter its enigmatic essence. Still, in fairness to "Sir"
Nick-recently knighted by Queen Elizabeth-it should be noted that
as tournament prize money has escalated to astronomical levels, the
Americans and Europeans have also developed a decent impersonation
of Faldo's English sc
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