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At Augusta National, Justin Rose’s name appears twice on the bronze winner’s list beside the victories of Sergio García (2017) and Rory McIlroy (2025) – both wins coming after playoffs that Rose lost. Only Ben Hogan shares the dubious distinction of losing two Masters playoffs, though Hogan later won the tournament twice outright.Rose’s record also includes a second‑place finish in 2015, four strokes behind Jordan Spieth. The only player with more runner‑up finishes without ever winning is Tom Weiskopf, who was second four times in seven years.Now 45 years old and entering his 21st Masters, Rose cannot predict if he will ever get as close again as he did last year, when McIlroy’s birdie putt on the 18th sealed a one‑stroke playoff defeat.“When you realise you’re that close, you can taste the victory,” Rose says. “I lived it as if I’d won, but without the real positive emotion – I sensed everything.” He acknowledges the mental rehearsal of the “what‑if” scenario while maintaining that he “did everything he could” and can live with the result.Rose explains his mental formula: “You can’t make a major win too important in the moment,” because a career inevitably includes “a little bit of heart‑ache and heartbreak.” He believes that to win, a player must also be prepared to be on the losing side.Despite the setbacks, Rose feels he has already demonstrated the necessary skill set. “I’ve pretty much done what it takes to win. I just haven’t walked over the line,” he asserts, emphasizing that he does not feel the need to change his approach.Recent form offers optimism. Earlier this year Rose set a new course record at Torrey Pines and became the first player in 71 years to win the Farmers Insurance Open wire‑to‑wire. He notes that eight players have captured the Masters after finishing second the previous year, suggesting his odds improve when the field is considered.Rose is also mindful of external narratives. “People are wishing me well and thinking it’s my year,” he admits, adding that he must manage expectations and craft his own story rather than buying into others’ predictions.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) continues to serve as a cinematic comfort food, delivering a relentless parade of perils—jungle treks, venomous creatures, double‑crossing allies, and larger‑than‑life set‑pieces—while never losing its playful spirit.The film’s charm lies not only in its nonstop thrills but also in a deep‑seated nostalgic longing for an imagined era when “the good guys always won.” Its creators—George Lucas, co‑writer Philip Kaufman, and director Steven Spielberg—crafted an homage to the 1930‑ and 1940‑year‑old serial B‑movies they grew up watching, such as Buck Rogers and Zorro’s Fighting Legion. Those serials, broken into bite‑size chapters before the main feature, taught a formula of relentless action that Raiders replicates with modern polish.Beyond childhood reminiscence, the film offered early‑1980s America a respite from the lingering shadows of the Vietnam War and Watergate. By resurrecting the mythic Greatest Generation—who triumphed over the Great Depression and World War II—the movie positioned its hero, Harrison Ford’s Indiana Jones, as a symbol of moral clarity in a time of “great moral obscurity,” marked by political turmoil, economic recessions, and the so‑called “war on terror.”For many viewers, the experience of watching Raiders on weekend television added another layer of comfort. The film’s frequent rotation on cable and syndication turned it into a ritual: a lazy Sunday, a remote‑controlled channel‑surf, and the inevitable arrival of Indy battling Nazis or escaping deadly traps. That sense of surrendering control to the “all‑knowing cable programming gods” amplified the film’s soothing effect.Ultimately, the story’s resolution—where a divine‑like intervention saves Indy and Marion—mirrors the audience’s desire for reassurance that, no matter how chaotic the world, a protective force is watching over us.Available for streaming on Paramount+ (US), Now TV (UK), and Disney+ (Australia).

Australia’s recent fuel squeeze is reshaping the second‑hand car market, with used electric vehicles (EVs) now commanding higher prices while traditional petrol and diesel models face steep discounts.MotorMetrics’ live inventory data shows that dealers have lifted prices on a range of EVs, most notably a more than 6% increase for the Tesla Model Y during the final two weeks of March. Similar upward pressure is evident for the Model 3, MG4 and Polestar 2, indicating dealer confidence that new stock will settle at these elevated levels.At the same time, the supply of used EVs is tightening, creating a classic demand‑supply imbalance that fuels price growth.Conversely, the same data reveal that many used diesel and petrol vehicles have been slashed by as much as 20%, reflecting a rapid shift in consumer preference toward electric power as fuel costs climb.Rental platform Turo reports a 70% jump in bookings for EVs and hybrids compared with the same period last year. Managing director Rob Chan describes the surge as a “unique wave of consumer interest” reminiscent only of the post‑pandemic “revenge travel” boom.Australia’s EV fleet is expanding steadily; the Electric Vehicle Council estimates that over 454,000 battery‑electric and plug‑in hybrid vehicles were on the road at the end of 2025, giving EVs roughly 13% of new car purchases. Analysts expect this share to rise further as more models enter the market and charging infrastructure improves.Economist Peter Esho warns that while oil shocks are not new, this one “could very well be one of the last”, as the current price environment makes EVs a financially sensible alternative for many drivers.Petrol prices rose almost daily throughout March across major cities, only easing after a government fuel‑excise cut. In parallel, Commonwealth Bank data shows a 161% increase in weekly loan volume for new battery‑electric vehicles in March versus February, underscoring growing consumer financing for EVs.Individual stories echo the broader trend. Sydney motorist Har Rai Singh, who rented several EVs through Turo to test long‑distance capability, says he now sees little reason to stick with a combustion engine, noting that “people are waiting for petrol pumps and paying over $100 to fill a tank – it doesn’t make sense any more to hold on to a combustion engine.”

Gaza City, Gaza – While Easter traditionally celebrates resurrection and renewal, Gaza’s dwindling Christian population spent the holiday in quiet reflection, confronting displacement, scarcity and the trauma of a conflict the United Nations has described as genocide. The enclave is home to fewer than 1,000 Christians, a community already small before the war that has suffered heavy casualties; more than 72,000 Palestinians have been killed since Israel’s offensive began on 7 October 2023. Inside the remaining churches, prayers and modest services carried profound meaning as families clung to hope for survival and peace. Yet basic necessities—electricity, water and food—remain in short supply, and even traditional Easter items such as eggs are virtually unavailable. Fouad Ayad, a bio‑energy trainer displaced from near al‑Rantisi Children’s Hospital, described searching the markets of Gaza City for eggs without success. “We decorate eggs for the children, and sometimes Muslim children visit us for colourful eggs,” he told Al Jazeera, highlighting the inter‑communal bonds that persist despite the siege. Shortages have also erased the customary communal lunch. “Meat is scarce and extremely expensive,” Ayad lamented, recalling how families once gathered to share meals, colour eggs and visit elderly neighbours of all faiths. The Church of the Holy Family, which Ayad once attended, has been struck multiple times. “Three of my relatives were killed in one attack, and another strike killed more than 20 Christians,” he recounted, illustrating the direct targeting of places of worship. Attendance at Easter services in Gaza’s sole Catholic church has dwindled as many believers have fled the Strip. Yet, as one worshipper put it, “We only performed the prayers, refusing to celebrate because of our martyrs,” affirming their resolve to remain rooted in the land despite the devastation. Israeli restrictions have prevented Christians from traveling to the Old City of East Jerusalem to attend the Holy Sepulchre for the past two years. Recent attempts by Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa to enter the site were initially blocked, only to be reversed after international outcry. Elias al‑Jelda, a 60‑year‑old Orthodox council member, recounted sheltering in the Church of the Holy Family after his home was destroyed. “I lost friends, neighbours and relatives, many killed while staying close to their homes and faith,” he said, underscoring the personal toll of the conflict. Traditional Easter treats—coloured eggs, kahk, maamoul and Eidiya gifts—are largely absent this year. “There are no eggs anywhere in the Strip,” reported 74‑year‑old Amal al‑Masri, who recalled pre‑war celebrations filled with shared meals and festive sweets. Power outages compound the hardship. “Electricity continues to be a major problem, and the soaring cost of diesel and generator oil makes it worse,” al‑Jelda warned, highlighting the broader infrastructure collapse affecting all Gazans. Despite the bleak circumstances, the remaining Christians affirm their identity and solidarity with the broader Palestinian population. “No matter what your political agenda or religion is, all of us Palestinians are targeted by the occupation,” a worshipper declared, encapsulating the collective sense of victimhood and resilience.

Thousands of Muqtada al‑Sadr’s followers took to the streets of Baghdad and several other Iraqi cities on Saturday, staging one of the largest anti‑war rallies in recent memory. Demonstrators brandished Iraqi flags while chanting slogans such as “No, no to Israel” and “No, no to America,” signaling broad opposition to the escalating conflict. Iraq, already caught in a web of regional hostilities, has endured attacks aimed at both U.S. interests and pro‑Iranian groups within its borders. The protests underscore the country’s growing frustration at being drawn into a war it did not initiate. In the heart of Baghdad’s Tahrir Square, crowds—including women—filled the avenues, their voices amplified by a palpable sense of urgency. “What America and Israel are doing is not a conventional military operation but a senseless war,” declared Dhirgham Samir, a 40‑year‑old participant, speaking to AFP. Samir added that the demonstration represented a broader rejection of “aggression, arrogance and injustice” worldwide, emphasizing that civilians are the primary victims of this conflict. Since the war began, thousands of casualties have been reported across the region, a grim statistic that fuels public anger. Al‑Sadr himself called for peaceful rallies aimed at condemning what he described as “Zionist‑American aggression” and urging a return to regional stability. His appeal resonated with many, reflecting his deep-rooted influence among Iraq’s Shia majority. Protesters gathered beneath Baghdad’s Freedom Monument, a symbol of the nation’s independence, to denounce perceived foreign meddling. Muslim leader Ali al‑Fartousi told AFP, “Humanity must speak out against these forces; the world must unite against Zionist‑American arrogance.” Al‑Sadr commands a loyal base numbering in the millions and has repeatedly demonstrated an ability to mobilise large crowds. Though he has opposed various Iraqi governments over the years, his network extends into ministries and state institutions, amplifying the political weight of today’s demonstrations.

In Lebanon, the war with Israel has severely impacted the traditional funeral process. Normally, the deceased are given a final procession through their hometown before burial. However, due to Israel's expanding ground invasion in south Lebanon, families are being forced to abandon these customs.In Tyre, temporary graves have been established with brief epitaphs marking the deceased. The burials are conducted using a special Islamic rite called wadiaa, which allows for the casket, but not the body, to be exhumed later. This practice is usually reserved for exceptional circumstances like war.Rabih Koubaissi, who oversees burials in Tyre, noted that people have an emotional attachment to burying their loved ones in their ancestral land, reflecting their sense of belonging and heritage. The brutality of war has made it impossible to follow traditional washing and preparation of bodies, sometimes only collecting pieces of bodies for burial.Families face the heartbreaking reality of having to bury their loved ones twice. The Israeli military's plan to occupy areas south of the Litani River indefinitely raises fears that reburials may not be possible for months or even years. This situation has left the deceased with few visitors, as most families have been forced to leave Tyre due to increased attacks.Hecham Reda, a medic, expressed his fear of not being able to rebury his friend Hadi back home, reflecting the anxiety many people from south Lebanon are experiencing. Koubaissi finds it difficult to comfort grieving families, trying to convey sympathy without revealing the harsh realities of the situation.

Science is often seen as a dry and serious field, but does it have to be? A recent study published in Proceedings of the Royal Society B found that scientists deliver an average of only 1.6 jokes per presentation, with 66% generating only polite chuckles.The findings confirm previous research, including a randomized clinical trial conducted over 20 years ago by Timandra Harkness and Helen Pilcher under the guise of the Comedy Research Project. The study found that laughter levels failed to reach statistical significance, even when scientists attempted to incorporate humor into their talks.However, research suggests that humor can be an effective tool in science communication. A 2025 study called Wit Meets Wisdom found that humor can boost credibility and likability, making researchers seem more trustworthy and their findings less likely to be disputed.Helen Pilcher, a science writer and author, argues that scientists should not be afraid to adopt a more playful tone when communicating their research. By incorporating humor, scientists can build cohesion and foster a sense of shared perspective with their audience.Pilcher suggests that scientists can use humor to make their research more engaging and memorable, without having to convert it into standup comedy. By doing so, scientists can make their research more accessible and enjoyable for a wider audience.

Iranian footballer Mona Hamoudi had one ambition when she boarded the flight to Australia for the Women’s Asian Cup: to play well. However, the tournament became a test of her skills, patience, and ability to make difficult decisions under enormous pressure.Hamoudi, a 32-year-old midfielder, was part of the Iranian national squad that travelled to Australia in early March. The trip unravelled into one of the most scrutinised episodes in the history of Iranian women’s sport. The squad had remained silent during the national anthem ahead of their Asia Cup opener against South Korea on March 2, two days after the United States and Israel went to war with Iran and killed Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.Their silence was perceived by some as a protest against the Iranian government, and Iran’s state television branded the women as “traitors”. The players sang the anthem at their next two matches, but fears for their safety grew further after it was reported in the media that they were being monitored by Iranian government and football officials.Following Iran’s elimination at the group stage, five players – Hamoudi among them – claimed asylum and were granted humanitarian visas by the Australian authorities. However, after the rest of the squad left Australia on March 10, five of the seven later reversed course and said they would return to Iran – including Hamoudi.Hamoudi and teammate Zahra Sarbali describe the decision to return to Iran as inseparable from a sense of duty; to family, teammates, and “national obligation”, rather than a purely free choice made in calm and safety. They faced harassment and constant following from media and social media, and the expectations and pressure from the Iranian-Australian community.The journey back to Tehran was marked by fear and tension, with the media attention that had followed them throughout the tournament only intensifying once they were back in Iran. The football federation offered formal support, and the players appeared on national television after their return and resumed training as normal.On March 19, the team were met in Tehran with a hero’s welcome from the public, with several thousand people gathering in Valiasr Square, many holding Iranian flags. However, fears remain over the consequences for their careers and how their every future action might be interpreted.Maryam Irandoust, a former head coach of the Iranian women’s national team, said these experiences will carry a psychological weight onto the pitch, directly affecting performances in training and in matches. Adel Ferdosipour, a veteran Iranian sports journalist, warned that any punishment of the players could deter future footballers from representing Iran.

A recent performance at the Royal Festival Hall by the renowned Argentinian pianist Martha Argerich and her Korean mentee Dong-Hyek Lim left the audience in awe. The duo's setlist included Mozart's Sonata for Two Pianos in D Major K448 and Ravel's two-piano arrangement of La Valse, as well as a surprise encore of Schubert's Fantasia in F minor D940.The performance was marked by a sense of gentle anarchy, with Argerich and Lim chatting and occasionally bowing between works. Their onstage negotiations about swapping pianos and furious looks at page-turners added to the charm. The audience was treated to moments of astonishing pianistic ventriloquism, particularly in the second movement of the Mozart sonata, where Lim imitated Argerich's gossamer touch in a breathtaking sotto voce passage.Argerich, widely regarded as the greatest pianist alive today, brought her unique touch to the performance, conjuring 50 shades of grey in the Schubert and veiled, suspended-animation pianissimo in portions of the Rachmaninov. Lim, on the other hand, favoured bright attack and primary colours. The Ravel arrangement was deliciously muddy, with the work's intoxicating pulse gradually rising from the depths as the two pianists exchanged bass detonations.The encore, a monumental 20-minute rendition of Schubert's Fantasia, was a testament to the duo's exceptional chemistry and skill. Argerich pushed forwards, ever-faster, her hands barely skimming the keyboard, as Lim scrambled to keep up, the waltz teetering on the brink of catastrophe in a high-wire act that couldn't have been more thrilling.