When Magic Almost Happened: Remembering Tom Watson's Heartbreaking Dance with Destiny at Turnberry

I remember watching Thursday's round, barely paying attention at first. Tiger was in the field; all the young guns were there, and honestly? Watson felt like window dressing. Then I saw the leaderboard. Watson, T. 65. Bogey-free. Wait, what?

You know that feeling when you're watching something unfold and you can't quite believe it's real? That's what Friday felt like. The weather turned nasty — wind howling, rain sideways, the kind of conditions that usually separate the contenders from the pretenders. Watson shot 70. He was tied for the lead with some guy named Steve Marino, but nobody was talking about Marino.

By Saturday, even the doubters were starting to believe. Watson wasn't just hanging around; he was leading the damn thing. A 71 in brutal conditions, and suddenly, we're all doing the math. One more round. Eighteen holes between a 59-year-old legend and the greatest comeback story in golf history.

Sunday morning, you could feel it. The galleries were electric. Watson, paired with Mathew Goggin (who was probably in diapers when Watson won his first British Open), walked to the first tee like he belonged there. And for 17 holes, he played like he did.

Then came the 18th.

Watson needed a par. Just a par. His drive was perfect — right down the middle. But his approach shot? It caught one of those hard bounces that make you believe in cruel fate. The ball shot over the green as if it were running from something.

What happened next still breaks my heart to this day. Watson had a delicate yet makeable little shot from just off the green. His attempt was decent but not great and left him with a putt for the ages.

The putt painfully slid by the edge of the cup.

You could hear groans from golf fans from Scotland to LA. The four-hole playoff that followed? Stewart Cink played the type of golf that you would expect from an eventual champion, but it felt like watching the credits roll on a movie that should have had a different ending.

Here's the thing, though — and this is what still gets me about that day. Watson didn't win the tournament, but he won something bigger. He showed us that age is simply just a number when you've got the heart of a champion. That sometimes "coming close to" magic is its own special kind of magic.

Cink got his name on the trophy. But Watson? Watson got something that lasts longer than any championship: he reminded us why we fell in love with this crazy game in the first place.