The Guardian published a nice obit of Earl Woods, Tiger’s dad. It contains the following stories:

His faith [in Tiger’s potential] took hold when Tiger was aged one. Earl was practising golf in the garage as the tot watched from a high chair. Then he descended, took the club and hit the ball into the net his father had strung up. “I was flabbergasted,” Earl recalled. “It was the most frightening thing I had ever seen.”

At 18 months, he took Tiger to a golf course for the first time and let him play a hole. The toddler shot an 11 on the 410-yard par four, with eight shots to the green and three putts. When he was 11 he first beat his father, who never won against him afterwards…

Now I agree that Tiger is a truly wonderful golfer. I can also imagine that he must have been a child prodigy. But playing a par four in 11 shots at 18 months? Surely this is urban myth territory.

By far the best obit of John Kenneth Galbraith, IMHO, was the Economist‘s.

Bons mots … seemed to come naturally to him. “Economists are economical, among other things, of ideas; most make those of their graduate days last a lifetime.” “Wealth is not without its advantages, and the case to the contrary, although it has often been made, has never proved widely persuasive.” As Kennedy’s ambassador to India, Mr Galbraith preferred to write to the president direct: sending letters through the State Department, he told Kennedy, was “like fornicating through a mattress”….

The piece also reminds one that Galbraith’s effortless style was the product of a good deal of work.

Mr Galbraith strove to perfect his prose, reworking each passage at least five times. “It was usually on about the fourth day that I put in that note of spontaneity for which I am known,” he once admitted.

As Sam Johnson said, “nothing that is read with pleasure was written without pain”.