Three young guns

Whether Jordan Spieth is the White Tiger is up in the air.  The performance at the Masters was enough to provoke wonder.  And from such a young man – such poise, and such manners.

There is a young man in his first year in F1.  He is Max Verstappen.  He is only 17 – too young to hold a driver’s licence.  His dad was an F1 driver, and is behind him.  In Oz terms, that is a disaster.  For the Dutch, I hope it works.  People who know more about it than me say he has  what it takes already.  He might be the next Schumacher.

In the first match of the year, a kid wearing number 5 for the Swans caught my eye with some blackfella vision in white skin. He came out, in any sense of that phrase, last weekend.  He has freakish gifts and composure, blond hair, and he gets on with Buddy.  His name is Isaac Heeney, and the girls will go dotty over him, the prime of Australian manhood.  It is a Sydney promoter’s dream, and an NRL nightmare, because the kid comes from Newcastle.  If it were not the kiss of death, I would have said he  could be the next Haydon Bunton.

The three appear to have one thing in common.  They are yet to learn fear, the fear of failure.  The golf commentators wanted to know how he might go after he has four putted from six feet.  I was reminded of what Maina Gielgud said about the Australian Ballet about thirty years ago.  ‘They are young and fresh enough not to be intimidated b y the classics.  They are prepared to give it their best.’

May the gods of sport protect them, and allow them to entertain us, and enlarge our prosaic lives.