Upon its inclusion in the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio, much of the sporting world was aghast. No matter the stakes, it does not appear to require the same mastery of nature or body as do the mainstays of the Olympics; swimming and gymnastics come to mind as foils. And while athletes might be interspersed among the field of competitors, opponents of the decision conceded, the majority is still older, white, and decidedly somniferous.
The world's most popular biennial convention of the best athletes from all four corners of the globe is now tainted with golf, which brings the Olympics another agonizing step away from its roots - amateurism and non-mainstream sports.
I readily count myself among the haters. Golf is boring, and it is geriatric - though getting younger - and predominantly white. I was, and still am, among golf's detractors, reactionaries preaching that it runs afoul of the "Olympic Spirit," but Bubba Watson nearly made a convert of me with his second Masters victory in just three years.
Truth be told, those who yearn for the days before professional athletes and their coconspirator sports, namely soccer, basketball and tennis, eviscerated the Olympics of its soul are disingenuous. Viewership has not lagged, with the reactionary fans presumably comprising at least some viewers, so their interest has abided nonetheless.
There is no turning back the clock, no protesting the subsuming of cash cows every however many years. The only recourse is a change of heart, and Bubba Watson may have incited one with his legendary performance Sunday.
Initially, it was the 20-year-old Texan wunderkind, Jordan Spieth, who dazzled his way to the head of the pack. For the first seven holes, one of the youngest players at the Masters maintained an impressive, if tenuous, lead over his more seasoned opponents. Watson, however, not to be denied after a tough defeat last year, refused to panic early on, which paid the ultimate dividend.
For a guy on whom approximately zero pre-tournament talk centered, Watson looked better than the No. 4 ranking, a personal best, he garnered by tournament's end. After trailing for the first seven holes, he did not relinquish the lead despite numerous and sincere challenges.
It was not the most rousing victory, nor did it come in light of some grave tribulation or tragedy. All things considered, it was not particularly suspenseful, more or less a foregone conclusion by the latter holes. Rather, the devil lay in the details.
We witnessed a man at the apex of his craft. Here was a man who dismantled his opponents subtly, through sublime strokes and an even keel. He played virtually unimpeded to his second Masters title, becoming just the 17th player in history to earn two green jackets. Once assured of victory, Watson tearfully embraced his wife and two year-old son in a scene redolent of the same outpouring of emotion following his first title.
Watson's transcendent performance, or some version of it, belongs in the Olympics. One cannot deny the skill, the coexistent ferocity and grace with which he played. His presence and surely that of other like-minded golfers would in no way diminish the Olympics.
Although golf might not conform to the ideal once upon a time propounded by the Olympics, the event has proven to be, for better or worse, amenable to change. To add golf would simply provide another forum for performances like this.
Even I might be inclined to tune in.
Sam is a junior who is majoring in religion. He can be reached at Samuel_L.Gold@tufts.edu.
