Apr 22, 2021 Alex Smith could stand right there forever, toes spoiled by the plush strip of emerald green underfoot at his Hawaiian hideaway. “Some of the best grass in the world,” he says, awestruck, like he’s walking on cashmere covered in talc. His eyes scan the tropical paradise spread before him, all paddleboards, putting greens and palm trees, waves crashing into white sand and black lava rocks on a March afternoon so perfect that “blissful” undersells. He orders a beef-and-rice bowl at the oceanside restaurant in this private enclave that features not one but two golf courses. A thatched roof hangs overhead, covering a table near the pond stocked with exotic fish. The waitress says something about honey and beekeepers. I can’t follow her or the soothing ocean tunes playing from the speakers overhead. I’m not scanning, because I can’t stop staring at Smith’s uncovered right leg, the one that snapped and shattered on a football field 28 months earlier.