Stranger: "He's choking."
Kristin: "He's my husband."
Stranger: "Oh. I should have put that a different way"
Happily, Mattiace saved face with a birdie at 18—good for a fifth-place tie—and scored again by being gracious in defeat. "I walked off 17 and saw my mother in the wheelchair," he said. "I thought, I just made an 8, but I'm out here playing. It's just a game."
This game went to Leonard, who three-putted the 72nd hole for a final-round 67 and a total of 278, two strokes better than Day and a late-charging Tom Lehman. It was Leonard's fourth lour win and a rebuke to those who tout Ernie Els, Phil Mickelson and David Duval as Tiger's rivals-in-waiting. "I don't feel left out," Leonard said on Saturday. "It's nice to be mentioned along with those players, but it's not something that drives me."
Maybe not, but Leonard was spotted on Sunday morning checking out the Champions Room, a locker room reserved for past winners of the Players. "We need to get better security," said Janzen jokingly, but in the end neither he nor the rest of the field could deny Leonard access to that oasis of talc and hair tonic.
After bogeying the first hole on Sunday and wrestling all afternoon with his driver, Janzen's disappointment was palpable. He hadn't won a Tour event since 1995, but a good showing in last year's PGA Championship and a comeback singles victory over Jos� Mar�a Olaz�bal in the Ryder Cup had restored his confidence. "I think my game is better now than it was when I won the Open," he said after taking the lead on Saturday. "But there may be some things I was doing better then."
Like holding a lead. By the fourth hole on Sunday, Janzen was languidly kicking his divots—near tantrums, considering his usual stoicism. "Nothing good was happening," he said later, "and I ran out of holes to do anything about it." He wound up tied for 13th with an unsightly 79.
There were no such problems for Leonard. Two hours after holing out on Sunday, he stood in the dark, trying to sign autographs for a cluster of patient fans next to the clubhouse. "Does anyone have a flashlight?" Leonard asked a state trooper. No one did, but he kept signing while someone went inside to switch on a light. You couldn't see Leonard's expression, but you could guess how he felt.