Watson the star despite Cink triumph
0 Comments | Grimsby Telegraph, Jul 22, 2009
IN the end old Tom Watson could not quite eclipse Old Tom Morris and 142 years of history.
But if Watson’s story was not, after all, the greatest ever told as he finished the 138th Open looking every one of his 59 years and 318 days then it will still be remembered as long as the wind blows on Turnberry’s rugged golf links.
The record book will register that the man from Kansas finished runner-up to fellow American Stewart Cink after a dramatic afternoon which ended in an anti-climactic play-off following four days in which he had threatened to wipe a 46-year-old Morris from the history books as the oldest-ever champion.
The years caught up with Watson in that play-off. Of that there is no doubt. Perhaps the nerves jangled, too, just a touch when it appeared the man with a recently-replaced hip and who the bookies insulted with odds of 2,500-1 was about to achieve the sporting equivalent of man walking on the moon.
But it would be wrong to overanalyse Watson’s performance in that play-off. It would be wrong to remember the humiliation.
Because, make no mistake, the 2009 championship will go down as Tom’s Open.
A wonderfully uplifting, unpredictable, heartwarming four days in which a legend of the game revisited yesteryear and invited us along for the ride.
It is doubtful whether Watson could have received a more rousing reception on the first tee if he had worn an Ayrshire kilt.
Making his way serenely around the links he knows so well after making them famous with his ‘Duel in the sun’ triumph over his great pal Jack Nicklaus back in 1977.
Old men with so many missions behind them are just not supposed to be so relaxed, yet so competitively honed. Especially ones who hardly play these days.
And while another bogey scarred his scorecard following a ragged greenside pitch on the ninth Watson is one of those rare sportsmen who simply has never allowed adversity to affect his equilibrium.
So what did he do? Only rammed in a 30foot putt for birdie at the 11th, the stroke so solid and assured that you wondered quite how his career had been derailed by the dreaded ‘yips’ all those years ago.
And all the while the lead changed back and forth, but always Watson was there in the mix. Sometimes leading, sometimes chasing, but always managing his way around the golf course with the cunning of an old fox.
Until he came to the 18th needing a par for the Claret Jug. His tee shot was majestic, his iron pumped with adrenaline, so much so that it ran over the back of the green and nestled against the collar.
The putt ran by, the return was timid. A bogey
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