Jack came to Japan to do a clinic. We went out to play together. We are both playing well. I make a birdie, and I’m up by a shot. He says, “You think you’re going to beat me?” Now I’m nervous. Now he’s just staring at me. Everyone says, don’t get eye contact with Jack, and all I could feel were these stealy blue eyes staring at me. Last hole, he has a 20 footer to beat me. He looks over at me, gets over the putt, and he strokes it in. He looks over, winks. “There you go.” It’s art, what he can do.