He rewrote the course-management manual, redefined the bounds of possibility, but superlatives aside, more than anything Seve made golf gripping. And, let’s face it, sexy.
Up until his teenage emergence in the mid-seventies, it was a grey enough game (for all the garish attire), with an inordinate proportion of portly characters in unflattering Pringle sweaters lending to the view that it was something, despite its origins, that the Americans were best suited to.
But along came Ballesteros, all brilliant Iberian imagination and feel, and unfeasibly-good looks. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome, here was God’s gift to golf – a Spanish Elvis in white spiked shoes.
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