Millions of people were rooting for Tom Watson to become the oldest man to win a major championship at the Open at Turnberry.  It would have been arguably the greatest underdog story in the history of sport.  But, really, they didn't actually want Watson to win.  They wanted the younger, fairly decorated Stewart Cink to win.  Do you know how I know that?  John Feinstein says so.

In his blog, Feinstein on the Brink, Junior says that golf fans don't want the underdog to win.  They just want them to come close and then lose.  His proof?  Legendary CBS golf producer Frank Chirkanian...from 1994...when John Daly beat some nobody pipsqueak on Tour.

"For some reason, golf fans don't want the underdog to win," he said. "They don't mind if he contends, he can even lead after 54 holes, but on Sunday afternoon they want the stars to win--the bigger the star the harder they pull for him. In other sports, people tend to root for the underdog."

He tries a couple of so-so examples and then gets on the rack to stretch the story to make a connection to Paddy Harrington against Tiger Woods.  He said that people didn't really want Paddy to win - just to challenge Tiger long enough to make it interesting and then get out of the way.

Perhaps he is onto something.  Plenty of writers - myself included - have lamented at who wound up winning majors so far in 2009.  Arguably, all of the major winners were underdogs, including Cink. 

Cink was an underdog until the beginning of the playoff, when fans and commentators realized that a mentally and physically fatigued Watson had little left to offer up against the Georgian. 

Angel Cabrera - though a major champion - was not the favorite coming down the stretch.  First, Tiger and Phil were favorites after being paired together and lighting up Augusta for the first sixteen holes in a way we have not seen in years.   After they faded, Kenny Perry took the role after his tournament-defining tee ball to sixteen green.  When Cabrera won in the playoff after a Perry iron miscue, people were wondering what in the world happened.

And, of course, Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson (also underdog David Duval) were all chomping at the bit again to stake claim to the US Open at Bethpage.  Ultimately, both failed, leaving relatively unheralded Lucas Glover with a driving range six iron in order to secure his first major title.

That's not to say that these guys didn't deserve majors, but they may well be known for preventing others from winning majors just as much as they are remembered for winning them.

It is said that the winners get to write history.  In golf, that doesn't seem to be the case.  Fans write history. 

'86 is the major that Nicklaus came from behind to win more than Greg Norman's to lose.  Why?  Because the underdog won. 

Jack Fleck is reviled because he stole the US Open from Ben Hogan.  Really, he won it fair and square.

Jean Van de Velde screwed up the Open at Carnoustie all on his own.  Few could even tell you that Paul Lawrie actually won the tournament, or that Justin Leonard got into the playoff also.  All eyes were on the man destined to fall.

Golf history is one of great stories.  Sometimes, the better story - in golf and life -  is the tragic one. 

William Shakespeare knew this all too well.  His tale of two star-crossed lovers is more exaulted than his comedies or triumphs.  The rotten stench in Denmark leads to the death of almost everyone in Hamlet - and people are still enthralled by it four hundred years later.

Fish tales are interesting because the fish was this big, not modestly sized.  The truth is that great stories happen on the extremes. 

Tiger's ho-hum three shot win at the Buick Open was hardly a great story.  It's why no one really cares about it.  They care when Mickelson shoots 31 on the back to take down Ernie Els at the '04 Masters, or when Greg Norman squanders a six shot lead with Titanic-like speed.

And they'll care if they get a great story from Hazeltine.