While Tom Watson turned back the clock again Friday, they also activated the stopwatches at the Western Open.
Timing. It’s everything in golf, and this Watson capsule feels almost too perfect, too eerie.
“I’ve done this a lot lately, with not much to show for it,” noticed Watson, only two swings behind leader Jay Haas after 36 holes at Cog Hill.
The plot oozes symmetry.
In 1974, at Butler National, Watson won the Western. He fended off a gaggle of luminaries now on the Senior Tour, golf’s golden pond–including J.C. Snead, Tom Weiskopf, Hale Irwin, Gene Littler and Arnold Palmer–for his first pro victory.
In 1984, at Butler National, Watson won the Western. He beat a new star on the scene, fellow named Greg Norman, in a playoff by canning every makeable putt and a few that had no right to fall. Alas, that was Watson’s last conquest in a full-field PGA Tour event.
Space does not permit a complete litany of Watson’s near-misses and nice-tries since. He has been too close to be so far removed from another victory. Oh, he won in 1992 at Hong Kong. But, you know what that’s like. An hour after you win in Hong Kong, you’re still hungry. Especially if you were once King Kong.
“Last year’s British Open at Turnberry . . . that probably hurt the most,” sighed Watson. He was in the mix there, again, a stroke off the pace after 54 holes. But he closed with a 74 because the putter felt like a bathroom plunger in his hands, again.
Ah, that blasted flat stick. Once, Watson could sink them all with his eyes closed. Now, when he stands over a four-footer, you want the blindfold.
“It’s become a big deal,” Watson said. “In the media, with fans. They send me letters, even putters. I’ve gotten 30 or 40 of them. I appreciate the concern, because I sense people are pulling for me. I haven’t helped the situation, though. I could by making more putts.”
So far, so good at the Western. Watson played two rounds with Ben Crenshaw, who missed the cut by plenty but still taught by osmosis. His magic stroke was not lost on Watson. If only Watson could do as Crenshaw does. As it is, Watson admits that these days, he even loses putting contests to son Michael.
“He’s the same as Ben, no fear,” said Watson. “But, I still believe in myself.”
At 45, Tom Watson is not alone. If he wasn’t striking the ball so well from tee to green–better than ever, perhaps–you could stick a fork in him and stop rooting.
Instead, there is this element of timing. Saturday will be his in-laws’ 50th anniversary. Friday, Tom and wife Linda marked their 22nd. And they’re all here, in Chicago, where Watson’s Hall of Fame resume began.
Wait, there’s more. The British Open is next at St. Andrews, Scotland, where Watson is virtually an adopted son. Then in August, the PGA Championship. Then in September, the Ryder Cup.
“If I could win here,” realized Watson. “It would be a big help toward getting there. This would be worth 150 points, a major is 300, and with the 200 or so I’ve got. . .”
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Timing.
There was none of that at Cog Hill Thursday, when rules officials put away the clocks, a rarity. Brutal winds made conditions so difficult that club selection was guesswork. The first round finished an hour later than scheduled.
But Friday, a few groups were warned for not keeping pace, including one featuring Paul Azinger, who is 3-under par. He concurred. We were way out of position, he said. Slow play, if it persists, is punishable by fines, strokes, even disqualification.
Steve Stricker, meanwhile, benefited from the long arm of the law. He thought he’d taken an 8 on No. 18 after a penalty Thursday for a 79. On Friday, the justice department brought him down to a 7 for a 78. Then he shot 67 and made the cut. He’ll be there on Sunday.
And where will Tom Watson be? Rooting is allowed.