That streak continued Thursday, only four players beating his opening-round 68 at Bay Hill. After watching his game go south following the tour’s pandemic sabbatical in 2020, Scott has answered with vigor, entering this week’s Arnold Palmer Invitational with three top-10s in his last four starts. He turns 42 this summer, an age where players begin to fight off the pangs of the purgatory between competing on the PGA Tour and their arrival on the Champions circuit. There’s also the fact that Scott is staring down time. He still rocks saddle golf shoes and wraparound sunglasses, both vestiges of another generation, and his clothes are an earthy tone that evoke motel wallpaper from the '70s. He uses a long putter, a tool most left for dead after the anchoring ban went into effect. His manners and civility recall a past far kinder than the present. For one, Scott is a man from another time. Like Ben Affleck playing Batman or letting Aaron Rodgers host “Jeopardy!” this all seemed like a good idea. Which is an extended way of saying … our bad, Adam Scott. It is the journalistic equivalent of Medusa those in our sights see their scorecards turn to stone. And it is the concept that whenever we chase a player’s story rather than watch his story play out we accidentally damn that poor soul something fierce. For there is a curse that is all too real, a curse golf writers wield that we wish we did not. ORLANDO - You may not believe in hexes and you may not believe in voodoo and that is fine.
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