A Story of One of the Good Guys
As the sun made its way towards the horizon drawing Easter Sunday to a close a grand a glorious thing happened on the hallowed grounds of the Augusta National Golf Club.
When the seventy second hole of the Masters was completed the leader board showed that Louis Oosthuizen of South Africa had recorded a score of ten under par to finish in first place. Tied with him for first was Bubba Watson, a former member of the University of Georgia golf team who bleeds red and black even though he hails from the panhandle of Florida.
A playoff would be held to determine the Masters champion. It would be a sudden-death affair meaning that the two would play until one player scored better than the other on a given hole.
The two returned to the eighteenth tee. Both bombed their drives down the eighteenth fairway. Oosthuizen then plopped a beautiful shot down on the green, relatively close to the hole. Bubba responded placing his ball closer to the hole than the South African’s. Neither golfer could make a birdie and each recorded a par four on the hole.
The golfers moved over to the tenth hole which runs parallel to the eighteenth. Each hit their drives far into the woods. Oosthuizen was fortunate that his ball caromed off of a tree and rolled into an opening though he was a long ways from the green. His ensuing shot landed short of the green.
Meanwhile Bubba’s ball landed on pine straw about one hundred fifty yards from the hole. If one drew a straight line to Bubba’s ball from the hall there were a lot of trees in the way. Bubba would have to hit a curving snap hook shot with his pitching wedge to get the ball on the green and close to the hole. Getting a wedge to hook on purpose is difficult. I’ve done it countless times but never on purpose.
Bubba stood over the ball and it hooked, did it ever hook. The ball made its turn and landed near the hole. There was pandemonium among the assembled gallery. A few shots of “Go Dawgs!” could be heard.
Oosthuizen never stood a chance. His chip shot went well passed the hole and he missed his par putt and ended the hole with a bogie. Bubba rolled his first putt to within a foot of the hole and then tapped the ball into the cup and the coveted Green Jacket, symbolic of winning the Masters was his.
Bubba’s face exploded into a lake of tears. It was an emotional time for Bubba. His father had passed away last year. He and his wife Angie, a former Bulldog basketball player, had recently adopted a son by the name of Caleb. Now Bubba had won the Masters. He hugged his mother, embraced his caddie and received the congratulations of many of his fellow golfers who celebrated with him as if they had won themselves.
My wife sitting with me watching the conclusion on television said, “This makes me want to cry, a good guy, a new daddy, and a Georgia guy, it doesn’t get much better.” I don’t know if she noticed that I was dabbing at my eyes a bit. Of course I only shed a tear after I quit barking the “woof, woof, woof” bark practiced by the Bulldog Nation.
There is more to the story. Bubba Watson is unabashedly open about his Christian faith. He often sends inspirational messages from his Twitter account. He makes no apologies for being a follower of Jesus Christ and very openly says that his faith and his family are a greater priority than golf.
Leo Durocher once said, “Nice guys finish last.” Sunday proved Mr. Durocher wrong. I’m sure Mr. Oosthuizen is probably a pretty nice fellow himself. I afford him all the respect I can offer. That said, on Sunday one of the good guys finished first. I think even Yellow Jackets, Volunteers, War Eagles and Gators can agree with that.