Somewhere near Kunming, China, a thick, greyish haze, the color of cream of mushroom soup, sits stubbornly over a hilly countryside dotted with construction cranes. Our shuttle van, a silver Mercedes number that could seat the entire “Duck Dynasty”, is doing 85, easy, on the eight-lane freeway.
The driver glances back at me in the rearview mirror and makes a decision. She taps a CD into the front console slot, turns up the volume dial and in moments the van’s speakers are cranking out some sort of terrifying Kenny G knockoff Christmas collection, beginning with “Frosty The Snowman.”
I stare out the window. It’s early March. There’s another hour to go before I meet a 14-year-old golfer more famous outside his country than in it. His name is Tianlang Guan (pronounced “Tin-Long”). His friends and family call him “Langlang” (pronounced “Long-long”). And there’s also…
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