Drama and tragedy in its purest form. Kenny Perry wasting away all his life’s ambitions on the last two holes last Sunday in Augusta. Still good enough for a play off, but already out of the race. Even a Cambell looked more likely to win, when they finally went out for the sudden death play off. In the end, Mr. Cabrera won the title. And congratulations to him. But to see this steadfast, solid player Perry, who was to become the oldest Augusta champion ever to win the Green Jacket, loosing his grip (in the very sense of the word) on the last leg of this outstanding opportunity to greatness, almost broke my heart. Especially after he had just played that amazing shot on the 16th. What mastery. He was well on his way to just fucking go and win it. And what did he do? Pouring it all down the drain. It was enough to have a look in his eyes as he walked up the 18th fairway to know that he won’t make it. Not by a long shot. I liked him, as he tried to sooth and comfort himself afterwards, saying that lots of folks have really hard times, fighting illnesses and so on, whereas he was out, enjoying himself on the course. But I will never forget that look on his face, walking down that fairway, knowing that this was it. So close and yet, gone forever. I know that look. Not ever again. Not in this lifetime… I personally would have liked to see Phil Mickelson win, but what the heck. That game always shows you more than just sports, it instructs you about life itself. And thank you Harald, for letting me watch the last round at your HD TV!
The Masters 2009, Augusta National