Short funds resulted in small punting weekends.
Following the formidable Fitzpatrick (again) and the head of the Fed Ex, King
Kisner (for the first time) proved to be unsuccessful. Ruinous rounds of par
and plus two killed Kisner's (and my) hopes of being alive come Sunday.
However, a fortunate fillip from a fillys double
provided pre-Sunday nails. I decided to use only one nail. A £10 double on
Willett at 13/10, leading, and Fowler at 10/3, 2 behind and furiously strong.
Willett almost relinquished his grasp on the lead with some of the usual final
day flopping to which I had become accustomed.
Cabrero-Bello almost sneaked in an eagle on the
water-lined last to take a one shot lead, but couldn't quite, only managing a
birdie to tie the lead. At this point I was slightly worried. But then, the
un-withering Willett stepped up and, with testicles the size of baked potatoes,
smashed in a nervy downhill eighteen footer for birdie and the outright win.
Elation! The first leg of my double was in and I was
looking set. Fowler was in great form, and he only had to overcome the Danny
Lee.
By the time the coverage had started they were level
and Fowler was looking fantastic. The Californian hero had gained ten or
fifteen yards of driving distance since the last stats and was blasting 330 yarders
with accuracy and ease. The Waste Management Phoenix Open looked to be Fowlers
for the first time. With two woefully water lined holes to play Rickie was two
shots ahead. He was 1/12 in the betting and his nearest competitor, Matsuyama
was 20/1.
Fleeting considerations of £5 to make certain my
profit were dismissed.
As Fowler stepped up to the 17th tee, I decided to
share my bet (below) with friends for the first time. Seconds later a monstrous
and unnecessary drive ran in to the water. Balls. Fowler dropped, and
magnificent Matsuyama birdied for a two shot swing to level it up.
Going on to the final hole and my recently calm
cardiac facilities now threatened to arrest. Matsuyama plopped it in to the
middle of the fairway and Rickie need to put the pressure on. A beastly drive
looked to be in danger of going in the Church Pew bunkers, but fortune favoured
the foolhardy Fowler and his ball managed to find the fairway, forty yards
ahead of Matsuyama. Hideki put in a solid to 18 feet to force Rickie in to action.
A stunning wedge to 8 feet lumped the pressure back in to Matsuyama.
Now even closer, Matsuyama seemed to have more work to
do than ever. Fast and big breaking, this putt was horrible. The plucky 24 Year
old Japanese superstar was up to the task however, and battered it in forcing
Fowler to make his for a play-off. To rapturous adoration Rickie holed out for
a sudden death play-off to begin.
My literary prowess is only so advanced. It is
certainly not advanced enough to be able to adequately describe the trials and
tribulations that went on inside my body over the next hour or so. Twice
replaying 18 changed nothing except making Matsuyama have two putts to win it
and not make them. Moving on to the 10th spelled good fortunes. Rickie's record
favoured him and so did the crowd. Once again, fate was on the side of
Matsuyama and Fowler missed off the tee. Some serious scrambling skills later
resulted on another drawn hole.
Now, on to the main event. Back to 17. Unlike
Snedeker, Fowler had the presence of mind to take a different club when playing
a hole which he had driven poorly in the past. Right club, wrong shot. An over
draw put Rickie in the wet stuff again. My face was in the wet stuff too as
tears streamed down my emotionally invested face.
Even so, he still had a putt to return to 18, but it
wasn't to be. Hatred for Hideki bloomed and rage for Rickie blossomed. The post
tournament conference had Rickie blabbing and all negative feelings were
abandoned. Financial firepower was not lining up. The Stars were yet to align.
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