As Palmer got set to putt on what had to be at least a 65 footer he was surrounded by the same kind of crowd as he was in the 60's and 70's. He stroked the ball with authority and the crowd hushed as it started to appear that we were about to witness yet another truly magical moment. I have no idea what etherial GPS was guiding that sphere but somehow that putt found the bottom of the hole! I'm sure I alarmed a few of my neighbors with the sounds that came out of me at that moment. It was so wonderful to see Arnie when he began to realize that it just might go in. And before the sound of that sphere hitting the bottom of the cup could be heard there was Arnie pumping that right fist one more time.
My whole being swells when I experience myself in the presence of excellence of any sort. The tears were streaming down my face when I saw that pump (as they are as I write this now). Thank you Arnie for that moment. At my age I don't know if I have any fist pumps left in my tank but it sure is great to see that it's possible.