Tom Watson

I remember it like it was yesterday. A Sunday night in April 1986, Dad picks me up from work. I had barely slammed the door on the Riviera shut when Dad spoke.

"Well, it was a good day for the old guys."

"What happened?"

"Jack won the Masters!"

Golf was the perfect game for Dad because it was more mental than physical.

Read the full article at Booked for Dissent.

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