The old hands will tell you that the '60 U.S. Open was thebest ever. Arnold Palmer, 30-year-old working-class hero, won. JackNicklaus, 20-year-old Ohio State frat boy, had his coming-out party.Ben Hogan, 47-year-old golfing legend, had his last gasp at a major.Pebble Beach 2010 was no Cherry Hills 1960. It was a dance that neverfound its rhythm. Still, an intriguing triumvirate emerged, with abigger-than-life star (Tiger Woods), a singular young talent (RyoIshikawa) and an aging, relevant lion (Tom Watson).
Ishikawa, the 18-year-old Japanese golfer, made asplashy U.S. Open debut, breaking par in his inaugural round whiledressed from head to toe in bubble-gum pink. (He finished 33rd, with afinal-round 80.) Woods, 34, desperate to reclaim his place in the world, played well enough to maintainhis No. 1 ranking. (He tied for fourth, as he did at the Masters.) AndTom Watson, 60, playing on a USGA invitation and an artificial lefthip, became the only golfer to compete in all five Opens held atPebble.
The old man practically stole the show. Watson played the first tworounds with Ishikawa, known in Japan as the Bashful Prince. Somethingmust get lost in translation. The kid practically screams, "How doyou like me now?" After checking out his action, Watson decided,in his voice-of-god way, that Ryo's the real deal. "His putting is excellent," Watson said. "I love it. He hasgreat touch. He hits the ball very high. That combination, you'regoing to win. Not a question."
Regarding TW I and TW II: They both went to Stanford (Watsongraduated); they both won the Open at Pebble; they both have lockersin the Champions Room at Augusta National. But Watson, not a bashfulprince, has been all over Woods for his cussing and club throwing and,in an indirect way, his life with the ladies. (Regarding Woods'sprivate life, Watson said in January, "It's something he needs to get control of.") During a practice round last week,when the TWs got trapped in a 10th-tee traffic jam, they ignored each other, "their cold shoulders turning the tee into an outdooricebox," in the words of Karen Crouse of The New York Times . The passage of greatness goes from Nicklaus to Watson toWoods, and Woods, Watson feels, has stained the game.
Watson is the last great player voice representing the golfestablishment in the game today. (Nicklaus and Palmer had that voicebefore him. Davis Love III would have it today, if his game got him into more press tents.) When Watson talks, he's really talking about the game first and his own game second. Woods was never builtfor that even before he ran over a fire hydrant last November, and now there's no chance. Last week, when several players — Woods mostnotably — complained about the greens, Watson noted that in '72 "they were black and blue." Golf is lucky to have a player on the scene with a memory and a perspective.
Watson may not be the most huggable guy in the game, and hishigh-mindedness can be off-putting, but how can you not admire him?You could make the case that he's never been more relevant. Inhis prime, for a decade beginning in 1975, golf was a back-burnersport. What he did last summer, when he took the lead at the BritishOpen at Turnberry to the 18th hole, then lost a playoff to StewartCink, caught the attention of millions of nongolfers and gave rise tothe ubiquitous bumper sticker: 59 is the new 39. In February, Watsonwon a Champions tour event in Hawaii, going head-to-head with one ofthe most popular and long-driving players in the game, Fred Couples. InApril, at the Masters, Watson shot a first-round 67 and finished 18th.He came to Pebble Beach last week with high expectations and his son,Michael, 27, on his bag.
Watson, like Hogan before him, is in his own way a wee ice mon.Back in the day, a personal revelation from him would be that he couldread greens with his feet. Watson, grudgingly and in a limited way,has entered the age of sharing. Did you know that Michael popped thequestion to his longtime girlfriend on the 13th tee at Augusta thisyear, on the Sunday before the Masters? Yep. Did you know thatMichael's first exposure to Pebble came in '82, when Watson won his only U.S. Open and his then wife, Linda, was pregnantwith little baby Michael? Also true.
Still, Watson hides hurt, athletic and otherwise, as well asanybody, which is why the Scots love him so. His last major win was in1983, in the British Open at Royal Birkdale. The next year, when theOpen was at St. Andrews, Watson needed a par-par finish to win arecord sixth British Open. His second shot on 17, the Road Hole, foundthe road. He said, "I hit the wrong shot with the wrong club atthe wrong time." They don't make quotes like that anymore.He never blamed his caddie, Alfie Fyles, for pushing a two-iron on him.Likewise, Watson never credited Bruce Edwards for his famous chip-inon the 17th hole of the '82 U.S. Open at Pebble. But he loves totell the story of how his caddie told him to "get itclose," and how he one-upped him.
Next month the British Open returns to St. Andrews, where Woods wonthe Open in 2000 and '05. Watson knows that the OldCourse — like Turnberry last year and Augusta National this yearand Pebble last week, like any course that's playing fast andfirm — is one where he has a chance to beat Tiger Woods and RyoIshikawa and maybe even Stewart Cink.
In other sports you get pushed out, but for old golf championsthere's always a home and always something to play for. After anopening 78 last week, Watson said, "Tomorrow I'll beplaying better golf. It grates on me when I miss the cut. I hateit." He shot a second-round 71 to make the cut on the number.
Then came a third-round 70. Only five players shot lower scores onSaturday. Through three rounds he was in 16th place. On Sunday he wastrying to get himself into the top 10, which would earn him a spot innext year's U.S. Open at Congressional. One of Watson'sheroes is Sam Snead, "who could play golf, really play, throughage 78," Watson has often said.
On Sunday, you know Watson was thinking of his father, Ray, whofirst brought him to Pebble as a teenager in the '60s. You knowhe was thinking about the trips he made to Pebble in the '70s,when he was studying psychology in college. You know he was thinkingabout Bruce and their U.S. Open win in '82. You know he wasthinking about the many AT&T Pro-Ams he has played at Pebble withSandy Tatum, the former USGA president, right through the '90s.You know he was thinking about the second-place finish he and Michaelhad as pro-am partners at the AT&T in 2007.
When Watson learned that the U.S. Open is returning to Pebble hesaid, "Twenty-nineteen at Pebble? That's cool."He'll be 69 then. Maybe he'll be back. "How long willI play? I hope it's a long time. I'm a golfer. That'swhat I am, plain and simple."
His friend Tatum, 89 years old now, followed Watson around lastweek. Heading back to his hotel on Saturday night, driving pastCypress Point, Tatum said, "Good thing Watson's not in thecar — he'd want to play nine now." It waspitch-black.
When Watson and Michael — father and son, pro and am — cameup 18 on Sunday afternoon, the top 10 dream was long over. Watson washolding back tears the last 200 yards as he closed with a par to astanding ovation. His Sunday 76 left him in 29th place. At age 60. Andhe didn't even play well. Amazing. He threw his ball intoStillwater Cove and came in and talked to the press, just as he alwayshas.
Watson showed more emotion last week than he ever has in public.He's not going to spell out to you what he was feeling. You canfigure that out for yourself. He knows what you know. That the passageof time is painful. That he and Jack will never go at it again. Thathis father is dead. That Bruce is dead. That Michael's all grownup. That holes 1 through 15 of his life are in the rearview mirror.That as a golfer he's not what he once was. "It'ssad," he said. "I'm sad."
Golf's wistful, and life is too. He wouldn't want it any other way. Wouldyou?
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