AUGUSTA, Ga. – The final day of the 2008 Masters golf tournament was a simple story: the South African kid didn’t choke and the Tiger didn’t charge. Period. Everything else went pretty much as Bobby Jones and the golfing gods might have planned it.

The Sunday pressure grabbed guys like Steve Flesch and Paul Casey right by the throat and caused them to go south so fast they almost slid off the leader boards. Others made only cameo appearances in the top 10. Phil Mickelson continued to make progress in rehab from his 2006 U.S. Open breakdown.

Down six shots to Trevor Immelman when he teed off on Sunday, Tiger Woods needed to post some early birdies to get back in the hunt and give the 28-year-old leader, who only a week earlier had missed the cut at the Shell Houston Open, something to think about.

But he didn’t. Right before our eyes, Tiger became mortal. All afternoon he seemed in greater danger of falling farther behind than gaining any ground. And as the holes went by without Woods making a move, Immelman just played rock-steady golf, content to take his pars and move on.

In other words, he did just as Gary Player, his fellow South African and boyhood idol, had instructed him in a Saturday night message left on Immelman’s hotel-room phone: “He told me that he believes in me and that I needed to believe in myself.”

And so he did, even though he knew that almost everyone was hoping – or, at least, expecting – that Woods would make a charge. But Tiger’s fans never got to let out one of those patented roars that rock the pines and sweeps across the valleys.

At the end, Tiger maintained his perfect record of never coming from behind to win a major. In each of his 13 wins in the Masters, U.S. Open, British Open, and PGA Championship, he had either been on the lead or tied for it after 54 holes.

Even Tiger’s most ardent fans had to give Immelman credit. On a day when the wind was tricky and mean, Immelman never really flinched until he got the par-three 16th, where he hit his tee shot in the water and ended with a double bogey that cut his lead to three.

But instead of doing a Greg Norman – remember The Shark’s 1996 last-round collapse when the tailors probably were already working on his green jacket? – Immelman did a Gary Player. Or maybe a Ben Hogan. After Immelman shot 68 in the opening round, Player said he was the best shotmaker he had seen since Hogan.

A shotmaker is a guy who always makes whatever shot he needs. A shotmaker is more steady than spectacular. A shotmaker plays within himself and lets everybody else make mistakes. Immelman, bless his heart, is a shotmaker.

His 75 tied the record for the highest final round by a Masters winner. It wasn’t one of those historic rounds that they’ll be discussing at Amen Corner for years to come, but it was good enough, especially considering that the guys just below him heading into the final round all played as shaky as Immelman must have felt when a stomach parasite got hold of him after last year’s Masters.

After an eagle on No. 2, Brandt Snedeker shot 77. He was only two shots behind Immelman heading into the final round. Former University of Kentucky golfer Flesch, who started the day only three shots behind, soared to a smooth 78. Poor Casey flared to 79, losing six shots to par in a five hole-stretch on the front nine, and defending champ Zach Johnson bowed out with a 76.

So relatively speaking, Tiger’s 72 was bad only when judged by unrealistic expectations his other-worldly game generates. Before the tournament, Woods even bought into his own hype, saying that the Grand Slam – all four major events in the same calendar year – was “easily within my reach.” But after posting his second consecutive second-place finish at Augusta, a humbled Tiger said, “I’ve learned my lesson there with the press.”

Once again, the big winner was Augusta National. It remains the loveliest venue in sports, a holy place to everyone who cares anything about golf. Augusta is where history and tradition are revered as nowhere else, where manners and decorum are de rigueur, and where crass commercialism goes to die.

Here are 12 reasons why the Masters and Augusta National are superior to almost any other major sporting event
:
1.    The buildings and grounds look more or less the same year after year. The people who run Augusta National know they are custodians of a sporting shrine and they take their responsibilities seriously.

2.    A four-day Masters badge – if you can get one – costs $175. The Augusta National folks could charge three or four times that much and still sell out, but they refuse to put profit ahead of principle.

3.    The Masters doesn’t gouge patrons at the concessions stands. No food or beverage item costs more than $1.50.

4.    There are no corporate hospitality tents at the Masters.

5.    There are no luxury corporate suites at the Masters.

6.    There are no port-a-lets at the Masters, except for a players-only one near No. 16 tee. The restrooms are housed in permanent buildings. Believe it or not, the men’s lines are longer than the women’s, either because men outnumber women in the galleries or because women golf fans don’t want to miss any more of the action than they must.

7.    Boorish behavior simply is not tolerated. Oh, sure, boos were aimed at one golfer, but that was only because of his name. Boo Weekley has a lot of fans in the South. But, thankfully, you don’t get a lot of those idiots who like to scream “You da man!” after a tee shot.

8.    Cell phones and cameras are not permitted.

9.    The skies over Augusta National are free of helicopters, blimps, and small planes trailing banners.

10.    There are no commercial banners or signage anywhere, including the leader boards.

11.    The people who run the Masters actually know and love golf. They are not a bunch of bottom-line lawyers and accountants who simply see the tournament as a revenue-producer.

12.    VIPs and celebrities don’t get special treatment. Anybody with a badge can go anywhere he or she wants.

Augusta National is one of the last bastions of civility and charm in the increasingly rude and raucous sports world. May it live forever.