It was so, so tempting to churn out this recap of the Open Championship prematurely, on Saturday night, leaving blank spaces where necessary to plug in Adam Scott's winning score for his first major victory, the one everyone had been expecting from him since he was about 19 years old. Why sit around and wait for final-round drama to not materialize, once again?
In the past two years, Sunday finales on the old sod had crescendoed not into gripping finishes so much as yawning culminations of a midsummer lawn party, with the unchallenged leader strolling casually to the 18th green for a polite toast and gentle tonguing of the ancient "jug."
Adam Scott had a four-shot lead going into Sunday's final round. He did not bear the disposition of a man willing to refuse Royal Lytham & St. Anne's his offering of fairways and greens in regulation, either. And if Scott wasn't even going to be paired with Tiger Woods, the man who signed caddie Steve Williams's checks for 13 years, well, why not just sleep in and rejoin the sunning patrons, in spirit, for a post-game ale on the patio later on. It was over.