Very British Open

"Them old days," said Alfie Fyles, "them old days are comin' back." Watson started out 69 and 69, but it was his 71 on Saturday that had even him believing. "I hit it all over the place," he said, "but I made the saving putts. That's how you win tournaments. You turn a bad day into a good one." But Watson christened Sunday by missing putts on the second and third holes not much longer than one of Fergie's shoes—"tiddlers" the BBC called them—and his and Alf's show was canceled. At least for another year.

Others hung in longer, namely Stewart and Davis, and Ben Crenshaw made a belated rush. But all fell away, leaving only Azinger and Faldo to battle for the grand auld championship. Finally, there was Faldo alone. Azinger was disappointed, but hardly crushed. "I lost a chance to win a great title," he said, "but I proved that I can play with anybody, that I can cope with the pressure. I enjoyed being center stage here. I love the thought of the whole world watching me. If you're afraid of the center stage in this game, you're nothing. I used to be afraid of it. But I'm not afraid of it anymore."

He is strong. He is resilient. And even as he sat forlornly at the awards table, listening to Faldo's speech, something was happening to make him stronger. A TV commentator walked up to Azinger's caddie and said, "Tell Paul not to feel bad. The first time I played here, I gave up two shots on the last hole and lost, too."

The caddie smiled.

It was Nicklaus.