Sport: Sure & Far

Fifty-seven years ago, the cathedral town of St. Andrews, Scotland, went daft over a youth of 19 whose serious face was just beginning to sprout the mutton-chop whiskers then in fashion. His name was Tom Morris Jr. With his long-necked clubs, lumpy balls and tarn o'shanter, he had gone over to Prestwick on the west coast andi for the third year running, whipped all the golfers in the land for the British Open Championship. They gave him the champion's belt, to keep permanently. The next year they...

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