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If it was going to happen for Sergio Garcia, it had to be the hard way

Golf Digest Middle East — Mon, 10 Apr 2017 05:23:34 +0000

By Dave Kindred

AUGUSTA, Ga. – The last thing you want to do from Augusta National’s 13th tee is jerk it left toward those skyscraping pines along that devilish little creek. There’s only trouble in that darkness. When Sergio Garcia bounced a drive off the treetops, his ball dropped into the gnarly branches at the base of an azalea bush. Sometimes called jail, sometimes called death, it’s a place that kills dreams. Not for the first time, Garcia had found a way to lose a major championship.

Then, five minutes later, he won it.

Only, in a half hour, to lose it again.

And then he won it, with sunset coming, or would have won it if he had made a little, flat, straight-in, no-mystery putt on the last hole.

Watch @TheSergioGarcia's final round in under three minutes. #themasters pic.twitter.com/mWV6BMnf0h

— The Masters (@TheMasters) April 10, 2017

So there was a playoff and Sergio Garcia would be sure to lose the playoff because it’s what Sergio Garcia has done for two decades. Tease us. Promise us greatness. Only to go into a funk of self-pity. He became Spain’s 21st-century version of Don Quixote, a knight of doleful countenance tilting at windmills.

Garcia greeted by fiancee Angela Akins after the win. – Ben Walton

Except, finally, after contriving ways to lose yet again, this time he won.

He won the Masters. Shooting a 69 on Sunday, winning a playoff against Justin Rose with a 14-foot birdie putt.

So again Sunday, as in so many performances over the years, Garcia was the protagonist in a spectacular golf drama, the character around whom all action revolved, for whom all scenes were written, whose strutting and fretting on his game’s biggest stages had long since marked him as charmer and sulker, as villain and hero.

“Sergio!…Sergio! … Sergio!,” came the shouted acclamations from thousands of people around the 18th green in the moments after Garcia had won. To all of them, turning to all points of the compass, he touched his lips and blew kisses. In a moment he saved for himself, he crouched and put a hand on the 18th green, as if to be certain he stood on earth, as if to make sure it had happened, that finally he had done it.

We have seen Sergio Garcia’s act since he was 19 years old skipping up the fairway before losing in a PGA Championship. We have seen him miss a little putt to win The Open at Carnoustie. What was it, four years ago, or five, that he confirmed with a whimpering confession what we’d always thought — that he didn’t have the right stuff to win a major. Never mind that he had won nine times of the PGA Tour and 12 times on the European Tour. Never mind that he was the beating heart of the European Ryder Cup teams that kept whipping up on the U.S.

It never felt like a horror movie. It felt like a little bit of a drama maybe. But with a happy ending.

He was always the best player who had never won a major. He came here this week 0-for-73.

Now 1-for-74 and wearing the green jacket that goes to Masters winners, he said, “I’m thrilled to be standing here this late on Sunday afternoon, Sunday evening,” he said. He was sitting, actually, trying to explain to reporters how it happened. “It’s always a beautiful thing to have. So it’s been an amazing week, and I’m going to enjoy it for the rest of my life.”

Part of the enjoyment will come with the realization that he is, finally, a worthy successor to his idols, models, mentors, and countrymen, Seve Ballesteros and Jose Maria Olazabal, both winners here twice. “To be able to join (Jose Maria) and Seve as Masters champions from Spain, it’s unbelievable,” he said.

How Garcia did it – how he changed defeat into victory into defeat before finally winning – will be part of Masters lore for a long time.

He was already two strokes down to Justin Rose when he jerked that tee shot into the treetops. He had to take an unplayable-lie penalty. With Rose all but certain to make birdie on the par-5, Garcia would do well to make bogey. Going to the 14th tee, he would be four shots down with five holes to play.

Instead, he pitched into the fairway, dropped a wedge on the green, and ran in a 12-foot putt for par. Meanwhile, Rose needed three to get down and gained no ground on Garcia.

At the 14th, Garcia hit a 9-iron to five feet. A birdie. Now he trailed by one, and at 15 he did a thing that brought Gene Sarazen to mind. Eighty-two years, Sarazen made a double-eagle at the 15th that helped him get into a playoff that he won. Garcia, from 189 yards, threw an 8-iron in there that nearly flew into the cup. “One of the best shots I hit all week,” he called it. It bounced off the flagstick, maybe 12 feet away, and Garcia made the eagle putt.

The eagle on 15 proved crucial for Garcia. – Dom Furore

Now it was all even, three holes to play.

Rose birdied the 16th and Garcia missed a 4-footer.

A loser again.

Except Rose took three from a bunker at the 17th while Garcia made a routine par, if any par on the back nine of a Masters Sunday is routine.

So Garcia was alive going to the 18th where both men missed makeable putts, Garcia’s miss of that dead-straight little one conjuring memories of other misses, other defeats.

But this time it was the other guy who failed. In the playoff at the 18th, Rose’s drive left him behind trees with no real shot at the green. He was in with a 5 before Garcia stepped up to try yet another putt to win a major. “We’ll call it 14 feet,” he said, “and curled in there nicely.”

There in his green jacket, Garcia heard a question perhaps never before asked of a Masters champion. A reporter knew Garcia loves horror movies. “I wonder,” the scribe said, “if you ever felt like you were starring in one, and it’s over now, and it will be easier to win more majors in the future.”

“Not at all, not in the least bit,” Garcia said. “I have a beautiful life. Major or no major, I said it many times. Obviously, this is something I wanted to do for a long time. But, you know, it never felt like a horror movie. It felt like a little bit of a drama maybe. But with a happy ending.”

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Oh, the things you’ll see — but mostly, hear — in a sudden-death playoff at Augusta National

Golf Digest Middle East — Mon, 10 Apr 2017 04:10:13 +0000

By Alex Myers

AUGUSTA, Ga. — Among the many rules at Augusta National, no one is allowed to run. Not to your seats, not to the bathroom. Not during practice rounds, not during regular rounds. And not even during a sudden-death playoff. A Masters Sunday battle for the ages has just spilled into extra time, and it amazes me that everyone is still obeying this rule. Well, everyone except me.

“WALK!”

That’s all a stern female security guard needs to say to get me to slow down instantly. Not that it matters. By the time I get out to the course from the sparkling new media center — which is spectacular, but also located in another zip code — I can barely see anything on the 10th hole. And that’s not even where the action is happening.

Thousands of people line that downhill par 4 hoping the playoff will last longer than one hole. And even more pack the perimeter of the uphill par-4 18th where Sergio Garcia and Justin Rose are set to tee off. I settle into a spot on the right side near the big scoreboard that now reads “PLAYOFF” because if I crane my head just right, I can see the flagstick. I think. But while we wait to see something — anything — there’s the unmistakably ugly sound of a golf ball hitting bark.

Now everyone is scrambling back down the hill toward those trees. It’s a rare semi-chaotic moment at Augusta National where order always reigns. Now other people are running, and I get down there pretty quickly to see a golf ball nestled in the pine straw. But now the question everyone has is Who’s golf ball is it?

Moments later, we see Justin Rose walking toward us.

“It’s Rose’s ball!”

“C’mon, Sergio!”

“Vamos! Vamos!”

Andrew Redington

The man screaming in Sergio’s native tongue isn’t Spanish. At times, Sergio Garcia has felt American crowds are against him, however, that couldn’t be farther from the truth now. But the partisan crowd is smart enough to realize that even with Garcia’s golf ball in good shape, this isn’t over.

“We all know what Bubba did. . .” a woman says, referring to Watson’s miraculous wedge in 2012. I sure do. I had a 90-to-1 bet on Louis Oosthuizen that day. Thanks for reminding me, lady.

But Rose punches out, and Garcia hits a great approach shot. At least, that’s what the crowd up by the green seems to indicate.

“Only Sergio can f— this up,” another patron concludes. “Yep,” his buddy responds. No one argues. This is a man who is 0-for-73 in majors, after all.

As word of what’s happening spread, hordes of people from No. 10 start making their way up the hill, making it even less likely to know what’s going on by the green. I find a man standing on a chair (pretty sure that’s not allowed, but he’s getting away with it) who tells me that both players face similar putts to what they had in regulation. But this time, Rose is on in three. “Wait, is Rose on in three or Sergio on in three?” he asks me. I fill him in. Watching in madness like this is truly a team effort.

Rose is going first again, and. . . he misses, this time for par. The prevailing noise is not an “aww,” but the kind of “ohh” you make to express pleasant surprise. The fans are not only rooting for Garcia, but they’re rooting against Rose. Somewhere, Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts are shaking their heads. Sorry, guys, but patrons wearing “Arnie’s Army” pins have now joined the Spanish Armada.

And then I’m told Sergio is about to putt, and. . . “He made it! He made it to win the Masters!”

Usually I’d need to see something like that to believe it, but I’ll take the word of thousands of screaming fans. And the people high-fiving me from every angle imaginable.

“FINALLY!”

“Hall of Fame!”

“Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole. Ole, Ole!”

A mob of us push up the hill, but we are stopped because the players have to walk through.

“I hope he’s crying,” a fan says.

“I hope my wife extended the time on the DVR,” says another.

We don’t come close to seeing Sergio. Or Jim Nantz, who I hear is also making his exit. Then I hear someone explaining who Jim Nantz is. “Have you ever watched the Super Bowl?” A man shakes his head no. “Never mind.”

Even though we’re stuck, the mood is jubilant. It seems everyone was rooting for Sergio to win his first major. Well, almost. I notice two young boys sobbing and covering their faces. A man tries to comfort them.

“It’s OK, he’s still a U.S. Open champ! And a gold medal winner! And he’ll be back next year! And you’ll be here to see it!”

As someone who growing up used to cry every year when the Knicks were knocked out of the playoffs, I know there’s nothing to be done to stop their tears. So they keep sobbing. And we keep waiting.

“Open the gates, me lord!” a brazen patron says.

“I’ve got to pee!” shouts an even bolder one.

Another man predicts the guards letting us leave will bring a bigger roar than Sergio’s winning putt. And when it finally happens, it’s close.

Now free to roam, it’s time to head back to the media center — so I can actually see how Sergio Garcia won the 2017 Masters. And just in case, I’m going to walk.

Main photo by Getty Images

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