The making of an icon - Seve Ballesteros at the 1984 Open

Twenty-six years ago Tom Watson arrive in St Andrews seeking to win his third consecutive Open Championship. But there was more to it than that. The hat-trick had been achieved by Peter Thomson as recently as 1956.

But if Watson were to win, he would join Harry Vardon, the British giant of the game at the turn of the preceding century, as the only six-times winner of the claret jug. Under different circumstances – a normal versus an exaggerated bounce of the ball after his approach shot to the final hole at Turnberry last summer, perhaps, or a confidence in his chipping that wouldn’t have necessitated the use of his putter from over the back of that 18th green – and he would be heading into the auld grey toun this year having matched Vardon’s still matchless tally.

Watson wanted the title in 1984 for another reason, too. He had won the Open at each of its other four venues in Scotland – Carnoustie (1975), Turnberry (1977), Muirfield (1980) and Troon (1982). This would complete the handful, and at the place where everyone wants to be champion.

Seve Ballesteros was among the other competitors with serious designs on the crown. He had won the Open in 1979 and the Masters in 1980 and 1983, in the latter outgunning Watson, his playing partner, in the final round. He hadn't won thus far in 1984 but after working on his game with the assistance of two friends, Vicente Fernandez and Jaime Gonzalez, both Argentinian tour pros, he felt comfortable and in control. And St Andrews owed him. In the previous championship there, in 1978, won by Jack Nicklaus, Seve had driven into the grounds of the Old Course Hotel off the 17th tee when leading the championship in the second round. That year, he played the hole in 5-6-6-5, six over par. He finished the Open seven shots behind Nicklaus. So in fact, more particularly, the Road Hole owed him.

His opening three rounds in 1984 were 69-68-70. At nine under par, he was tied with Bernhard Langer, his final-round playing partner. In the match behind them, leading the championship on 11 under, were the novice Australian, Ian Baker-Finch – and Watson. The latter had fired a 66 on Saturday and was perfectly placed to realise a lifelong ambition or two. But as Seve left the interview room that evening, he said to the assembled press: “I'll see you all in here tomorrow.” He manifestly didn't mean as a loser.

Throughout an extraordinary final afternoon, Seve kept looking at the leaderboards. Birdies at the long 5th and the short 8th gave him the lead, this for the first time in the Open since he had won at Lytham five years before. He bogeyed the 11th before a birdie at the 14th got him into a tie for the lead with Watson. Nothing was happening for Langer, Baker-Finch was on his way to a 79, and no one else was remotely threatening. It was between the two of them.

The breeze strengthened as Seve arrived on the 15th tee. He reached into his bag and took out his navy blue sweater, chosen to go with his white shirt and navy trousers. He put it on. He was now clad exactly as he had been at Lytham in 1979. (This nautical sartorial combination was one he mostly reserved for the Open, but for Seve blue had been the colour ever since he wore a shirt of that hue when he clinched his debut tour victory in Holland. He also wore blue, in different shades, for his two Masters victories. For the record, the royal blue shirt he wore to lose the 1986 Masters was a Nike model. As Tiger Woods has repeatedly demonstrated on major-championship Sundays, they work better in red.)

Seve parred the 15th and 16th without drama or anxiety but as he got to the 17th tee, the Road Hole, he had reason to be fearful. It is not only generally reckoned to be the toughest par-four in the world, Seve’s personal stats for the week were in line with that opinion. Of the five bogeys he had suffered to this point, three of them had been on this hole, two of them with one-putts. He badly wanted a par this time around.

What he didn’t want was what he got. Again he drove left. The rough was thick and matted but Seve's lie was not too bad. He could get a 6-iron on the ball. The question was whether that could get him the 200 yards to the green. It did – the shot of a champion. Two putts from50 feet secured the par. It felt like a birdie.

On the last, as straightforward a par-four as the 17th is fiendish, Seve hit a good drive and a wedge to 12 feet below the hole. The putt was on line all the way but seemed as if it would stop on the lip. As if making one final determined effort, the ball toppled into the cup for a birdie three. Seve went mad.

“I knew the putt was very close,” he said. “You never think whether the ball is going to go in or stay out. You just watch it. I could see it was close and then – it goes in. It was the happiest single shot of my life.” His celebrations were extravagant, like a matador enjoying the best kill of his life. “I nearly killed my caddie,” said Seve of the embrace he gave Nick de Paul. “I was so excited.”

That image of his moment of exultation is iconic. Seve adopted it for his corporate logo and even had it tattooed on his arm. It meant that much. There was additional pleasure, of course, in the identity of the man he beat – his chief rival atop the world game. Watson could have caught Seve with a 4-3 finish of his own, but after an ideal drive down the 17th (in fact, it started out so close to the out-of-bounds that Watson initially thought he might have to hit another tee shot), he went with a 2-iron for his second shot. It was a bad misjudgment; way too much club, His ball finished on the road and he took a bogey five, just before an unknowing Ballesteros was sinking that putt on the 18th. By the time Seve had signed his card, he knew Watson needed to hole his second shot at the last to force a playoff. That unlikely scenario didn't happen.

The frostiness that existed between the two men at that time was apparent in the aftermath. Seve was mildly offended by Watson's half-hearted handshake and curt congratulations. He told Gary Player: “Look how that guy congratulated me!” But Watson's disappointment was understandable. He knew he'd never have a better chance to win an Open over the Old Course; could not have suspected that he’d be in the heart and heat of the Open action an amazing 25 years down the road. For Seve, still to come was his victory at Lytham in 1988, which earned him his fifth and final major championship.

This time around, the story of the Open is likely to be about other men. (Well, unless Watson is improbably going to trump what he did at Turnberry.) However, at the time of writing it was expected, or at least hoped, that Seve will play in the past champions’ four-hole event on the Wednesday before the championship begins. All golf fans will hope he can make that – enjoy one final walk over the Swilcan Bridge and receive the tumultuous ovation that will doubtless be his at the 18th green. The celebrations won’t quite match what happened there in 1984, but after all he has contributed to golf, especially in Europe and nowhere more so than in Britain, the least Seve deserves is a one glorious, final hurrah.