Raise your hand of you picked Stewart Cink in your Majors Pool to win the 138th British Open at Turnberry.

I don't know if even Stewart Cink picked himself to win the 138th British Open at Turnberry.

For most of the day, it looked like Tom Watson's improbable journey would continue and we would all bear witness to a slice of golf history. Even when Watson got off to a shaky start, there were not a lot of folks getting off the Watson bandwagon.

And then, it was clearly his. All Tom Terrific had to do was par in and a sixth Claret Jug would be his. Alas, the golf gods have a skewed sense of humor. When Watson hit a perfect second shot at the hole location on No.18, instead of rolling out and holding the green, Watson's sphere released and ran past the pin, leaving him 20 feet coming over a ridge from a fluffy lie just over the green through the fringe.

Oh, the golf gods got Old Tom there as a better than average shot ended up in an awkward position.

Then Watson, nearly 60 years old with a lifetime of golf greatness behind him and not one, but two lines of wedges that bear his name for his skill with the club, chose to putt the ball from the first cut, through the fringe, toward to the pin. He did this with the skill of a seasoned veteran and yet the ball rolled out too far, leaving Watson just six feet from his sixth Claret Jug.

The stage was set. Tom Watson, a fan favorite, a man of the people, someone who embraces all things golf and loves, absolutely loves the British Open and all its quirkiness, had six feet to add to the history of the game in the land where the game was invented. Six feet. Six lousy feet. Surely the golf gods would let Tom have his day and beat the kids at their own game.

Watson settled over the putt, took one more look, and created one of the worst strokes he had taken all week with the flat stick. It never had a chance; in fact, it never even got to the hole. You could hear the air come out of all of Scotland and if you listened carefully, the golf gods were snickering.

Once Watson's sphere staggered to a halt, everyone knew that Tom's day in the sun was done. Sure, there would be a four-hole playoff, against Stewart Cink, who buried his birdie putt at 18 earlier in the day to force the playoff at two-under par, but it was a mere formality.

Watson looked like a broken man, one who had his hands around the Claret Jug and watched in slow motion as it slipped through his fingers, only to have Cink catch it.

For three days, 17 holes and three shots, this was an epic British Open, one that Tom Watson made memorable, but in the passing of time, the 138th British Open at Turnberry will be remembered not as the Open that Stewart Cink won, but as the Open that Tom Watson let get away.