Tom Watson is one of the most remarkable athletes of our time. He won eight major golf tournaments (five Open Championships, two Masters and a U.S. Open) and he has tacked on another six senior major championships since turning 50. At the age of 59, Watson had the golfing world transfixed as he came agonizingly close to winning another Open Championship.

Yesterday, Watson added to his already formidable r√©sum√© by winning the Senior PGA Championship at the age of 61, the second-oldest winner of that event in history. “If this is the last tournament I ever win, it’s not a bad one,” Watson observed after his latest victory. “I’m kind of on borrowed time out here at 61.” Watson has now won six senior majors — only Jack Nicklaus (eight) and Hale Irwin (seven) have won more.

But for all of Watson’s success, arguably the most amazing thing about the man is that none of it has come easily. He struggled in his early years on the PGA Tour to win his first major and dealt for years with the unfair characterization that he was a choker under pressure. Then, after an extraordinary decade in which he was the best golfer on the planet, Watson inexplicably lost his velvet putting stroke, which was the part of his game that separated him from his main competitors. Then, almost another decade later, after honing the other facets of his game to compensate for his lessened putting skills, Watson again won twice on the PGA Tour in his late 40’s and became a dominant force on the Champions Tour after turning 50.

All of which brings us to this wonderful post (also see here) by Joe Posnanski, who – as a fellow Kansas Citian – has covered Watson’s exploits for many years. The first post above relates a fun story about Posnanski’s lack of golf ability, but then explains why Watson is one of the most compelling athletes of our time:

[M]y favorite bit from Wednesday’s conversation with Tom was when he talked about how every shot counts in golf. I was asking him about [Rory] McIlroy’s self-destruction at Augusta, and he said that he wished Rory had fought harder. “I never once saw Jack Nicklaus give away a stroke,” he said. The key to golf is that if you are on pace to shoot 80, you have to try to shoot 79. If you are on pace to shoot 90, you have to try to shoot 89.

And, Tom makes clear, this is not just about making the best of the situation. No, this is about defining who you are as a person. “When you’re hitting the ball well,” he says, “it’s EASY. … And golf is not supposed to be easy.” The most successful people, Tom believes, are the ones who can stay fully committed to the moment, who will be dedicated to do their best even after it’s clear that things are not going to work out as well as they had hoped or planned.

Tom told the story of Byron Nelson, after shooting a 72, griping about what a terrible round he’d played at the Masters. He’d only hit six greens in regulation. He was hacking the ball all over the place. He was grumbling afterward that it was as bad as he could remember playing. And his friend Eddie Lowery, who was Francis Ouimet’s 10-year-old caddy when Ouimet won the 1913 U.S. Open, said: “On the contrary, this was the FINEST round you have ever played. Because you played that badly and you STILL shot a 72.”

That, to Tom Watson, is the gold standard. Most days in life, you are not going to shoot 63. You just aren’t. The wind will be blowing. The ball will bounce funny. The putt will hit a spike mark. Life is simply not set up for five-for-five days at the plate, for 19-of-21 shooting days, for hat tricks and four-sack days and rounds with 10 birdies. If you’re lucky, you will have a few of those days in your life, days when everything seems to click, Ferris Bueller’s day off. And those days are to be enjoyed, cherished, but that’s not real life.

Real life is shooting 72 when you hit only six greens. Every shot counts.