The Open Championship at Turnberry was so much more than just a golf tournament. It was magical.
It was a quixotic blend of ecstasy and agony that were simultaneously addictive.
Stewart Cink’s name will deservedly be engraved on the Claret Jug, but Tom Watson won our hearts and it is he who will be indelibly etched in our minds.
In no other endeavor is heartbreak so routinely abundant.
Golf has a way of humbling even the finest of human beings, but it also bestows on those same people the desire to try again. It teaches you that failure is acceptable, and it will embrace you for those failings. Golf embodies the mortal spirit because it is such a human game.
For the first 71-and-a-half holes, we felt as though we were watching something historic.
A 59-year-old man was going to win the sport’s oldest Major Championship, and it would become a victory of epic proportion. It was Samson and Goliath; The Little Engine That Could, and Rocky all rolled into one.
In the course of any competition there are winners and losers. Such is the nature of any arena. Except for today, because Tom Watson has left us with something that will endure so much more than any of his eight Major Championships.
Watson has inspired us.
Young, middle aged, and old alike. He was magnificent in his play, but even more so in his comportment and he taught us so much:
That golf is a game for all ages.
That we should never, ever, give up.
That winning and losing are secondary to “How you played the game”.
That to those who would tell you that something is impossible; say to them; “Watch me."
That no matter how many times we fail; the only real failure is not to have tried at all.
Mr. Watson; thank you.
Thank you for four days that we will never forget. Thank you for being a supreme Champion. Thank you for the lessons that you taught us and for showing us the very best of man. And thank you for showing the world why golf is the greatest game ever played.