A quiet Sunday.
Tom Watson is a couple of months away from being 60 years old (his 61st birthday, but let's not quibble about semantics) and today he had a chance to, as the media folk say, make history. He was the third round leader of The [British] Open at Turnberry. If he won, he'd get that Claret Jug and the undying gratitude of AARP members who own a set of golf clubs. They'd be out at the local club on Monday thinking that they had a chance. Pity. He lost, of course. He had to. Stuff like that doesn't happen in reality. It happens on television, and the network built the thing up to the point of nausea - thanks Mike Tirico - to where anybody who beat him would be viewed as Lex Luthor. Well, Stewart Cink is Lex Luthor. Check Tirico's seat for a yellow stain. Television created a monster - as it often does. Since Tiger missed the cut, they fell into a pile of gold with this Tom Watson deal, and they played it for all it was worth. Right up until the end, when ESPNs Rick Reil...