The Complete Changes To Augusta National →

As time ticked on, holes were further altered to address playability, agronomics, spectator convenience and, most recently, 21st-century club and ball technology. Our challenge was to graphically document every architectural change at Augusta National in a manner never attempted before. To do it, we enlisted the talents of computer artist Chris O’Riley to prepare a succession of detailed diagrams based upon our 30-plus years of research.

Roger Federer as a Religious Experience →

Bill Gates recommends a book of compiled David Foster Wallace articles called String Theory. Wondering if I’d enjoy the book, I stumbled upon this 11 year old article that examines an already experienced Federer whose career we still enthralled with today.

The metaphysical explanation is that Roger Federer is one of those rare, preternatural athletes who appear to be exempt, at least in part, from certain physical laws. Good analogues here include Michael Jordan, who could not only jump inhumanly high but actually hang there a beat or two longer than gravity allows, and Muhammad Ali, who really could “float” across the canvas and land two or three jabs in the clock-time required for one. There are probably a half-dozen other examples since 1960. And Federer is of this type — a type that one could call genius, or mutant, or avatar. He is never hurried or off-balance. The approaching ball hangs, for him, a split-second longer than it ought to. His movements are lithe rather than athletic. Like Ali, Jordan, Maradona, and Gretzky, he seems both less and more substantial than the men he faces. Particularly in the all-white that Wimbledon enjoys getting away with still requiring, he looks like what he may well (I think) be: a creature whose body is both flesh and, somehow, light.

A Relentless Rivalry With Brother and Caddie, Austin, Has Propelled DJ to the Top of the Game →

At the Ryder Cup every little detail becomes an obsession, from the pleats in the golfers’ pants to how the pin positions favor the collective ball flights of the home team. No minutia is insignificant … unless you’re Dustin Johnson and his brother-caddie, Austin, golf’s most laconic characters. During last year’s event at Hazeltine, Dustin faced a sloping mid-length putt that plainly had two or three feet of right-to-left break. After conferring with his brother, he started his ball a yard left of the hole, missing the putt by at least six feet. Had the tension short-circuited his stroke or perhaps clouded his vision, even though this was just a practice round? In his soft South Carolina drawl, Dustin offered his caddie a different explanation: “Awwwww, man, I had the [green-reading] book upside down.”