The phrase goes, "They don't make 'em like that anymore," and sometimes it's a lazy cliché, and sometimes it's an over-romanticizing of days gone by. Maybe your dad says it wistfully about his old car: "They don't make 'em like that anymore," he sighs, while it teeters up the hill, polluting the air, getting 8 miles per gallon.
Today, we gather to say, with full sincerity and impact, earnest hearts filled with sadness, words we all mean more than ever: Seve Ballesteros is dead, and they don't make 'em like that anymore.
On the night of Seve's death, a half a world away in San Francisco, Willie Mays celebrated his 80th birthday, and in the montage of clips and volume of remembrances, you arrived at the understanding that there were baseball players, and then there was Willie Mays: hat flying, legs churning, power coiled in a swing, knowledge of the game spilling out of his being at all times.
Likewise, there were great golfers, and then there was Seve Ballesteros: golf shots rescuedRead More »from Seve Ballesteros: Special talent – and man