AUGUSTA, Ga. — Sundays at Augusta are supposed to be the birth place of legends.

Where Jack asked and the answer was rightly, “Yes Sir!” Where leaders led the way while followers tried to break through. Where the crowd’s roar was more informative than a crowded leaderboard.

Saturdays were moving days, sure, but Sundays, Sundays were winning days.

Not so much this year. No, this was the Masters each player hoped to win and no one wanted to take.

Everyone within shouting distance of the lead whispered meekly with each stroke, turning each swing into an adventure and every possible distinction into a distinct possiblity.

Through 21⁄2 hours and a mish-mashed collection of front nine holes of Sunday’s final round, the only sure bet was no bet at all.

Former Vandy star Brandt Snedeker got to 10-under and a share of the lead with an eagle at No. 2, but that was by far the brightest spot on this bright young star’s day.

Third-round leader Trevor Immelman missed an uphill birdie on No. 7 that most of your buddies would have told you to pick up. The 4-footer would have pushed Immelman’s lead to five and all but the hardcore golf nuts to channel surfing.

Paul Casey was undone by a nightmarish front nine that could only be rationalized by the train wreck that was Steve Flesch’s back nine.

It was anyone’s guess who would win, and nobody wanted to pick first.

At 5:15 Sunday afternoon that all appeared to change. The sport’s big tournament hunter took the field in his sights, and the yells that rattled through the Georgia trees were matched only by the visible stress on the rest of the field. Tiger Woods drained a 70-footer from the front edge of the green at No. 11 — the gateway into Amen Corner and this tournament’s most challenging hole — that created a giant, “Here he comes,” moment for everyone that knows the difference between a sand wedge and a sand box.

It was supposed to be his spring board, the starting point of a rally that would become a Masters title that would lead to the Grand Slam. Right?

It was there for the taking, but Woods would grab no more momentum and would pull no closer.

“We’re all playing under difficult conditions, and we figured if we shot something in the 60s, we’re going to be right there with a chance to win,” Woods said.

A little more than an hour after Tiger’s 70-foot bomb lit a small fire, it was completely extinguished. Missed birdie chances on Nos. 13 and 15 left Woods grumbling and television producers scrambling to find the mute buttons on the on-course microphones.

As Tiger was spinning his wheels, Immelman was holding his ground. He managed to slide around Amen Corner even Sunday, using clutch putts to save par on No. 11 and bogey on the 12th and a near-perfect approach for birdie on No. 13.

“You know, it amazes me to watch athletes pull off victories and make unbelievable shots,” Immelman said. “That’s why I enjoy watching.”

It wasn’t pretty — Immelman’s 75 matched the highest final-round score of Masters champion — but it didn’t have to be. This may have been the Masters no one was looking to take, but Immelman was not going to give it away, either, and that was enough.

“In the 60s,” Tiger said before pausing, “and try to put a lot of pressure on Trevor up there. It turns out that would have been the case. But I didn’t do my part.”

Woods’ math was right — in the 60s would have been good enough to get to the front — but his play wasn’t. The coronation never materialized, and the first stepping stone that was supposed to be a Grand Slam that was “easily within reason” vaporized in the cool east Georgia evening.

“I learned my lesson with the press,” Woods said. “I’m not going to say anything.”

During his glorious career Woods always let his game do all the talking. This weekend, his putter could not cash the Grand Slam checks his mouth had drafted, leaving him grasping at straws and looking for answers.

“You’re trying to put yourself in position, which I did,” Woods said. “I just didn’t make the putts I needed to make this entire week.”

In the end — through all the hype and dreamed or desired drama — Immelman turned it into a runaway by, for the most part, standing still. And for that he deserves major credit — and to be called a major champion.

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