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Bubba remembers his singular moment

When he needed it most, defending Masters champ Bubba Watson delivered a shot like no other.

AUGUSTA, Ga. - You can't hit this shot.

You don't know anyone who can hit this shot.

You probably don't know anyone who would even try to hit this shot.

Bubba Watson snapped a 52-degree wedge out of a dirty lie on needles, deep in a pine and magnolia forest, around bushes and trees and a TV tower, 150 yards forward and 50 yards right, up a hill, to within 10 feet of the pin. That par-4 on No. 10 at Augusta National in a sudden-death playoff won last year's Masters.

Given enough tries, you might be able to bump a chip and trickle it down the No. 16 green, maybe have the Nike swoosh pause for a moment before the ball drips into the cup, as Tiger Woods did in 2005.

You might be able to smoke a 7-iron (it would be a 5 for you) out of the bunker on 18 and snuggle it close, as Sandy Lyle did to win in 1988.

You might even be able to pick a 6-iron (3-hybrid for you) off the pine straw at No. 13 and have it frame a birdie, as Phil Mickelson did 2 years ago.

All of those shots serve to cement the legacies of those champions, superhuman execution in the most demanding of moments.

Still, given a few dozen chances, or maybe a hundred, you could hit any of those shots.

In a million years, you could not hit Bubba's shot.

Not in a two-dollar Nassau on Saturday afternoon; not in a Sunday morning friendly with your neighbor and your spouse.

Only one shot in Masters history comes close to replicating Bubba's in magnitude: Larry Mize's chip-in on No. 11, the second playoff hole in 1987, to post a birdie, which forced Greg Norman to make a putt, which Norman missed.

One difference: Mize had to try that chip; he had to use a 56-degree wedge. Watson's opponent, Louis Oosthuizen, already had missed the green short. Watson could have laid up; should have, really.

The other difference, of course: You could make Mize's shot. You probably have. Everybody chips in eventually.

Nobody aims at Jacksonville, bends it half a football field and drops it 10 feet from immortality.

Nobody but Bubba.

This was Doc Halladay dealing a no-hitter in his first playoff start; Doc Erving rocking the cradle on Michael Cooper. This was DeSean Jackson and Brian Westbrook smoking the Giants' kick coverage.

This was the biggest possible stage for a guy named Bubba, a boy who went to the University of Georgia and dreamt of visiting Augusta, and maybe even playing it, but never dared dream of winning.

Now they flock to the spot, as yet unmarked but ever accessible, since it lies in an area where spectators usually stand, between two runoff drains and below a sheltering magnolia. You know, right where a guy named Bubba is most comfortable; where a guy named Bubba hits shots that make people love him.

They love him because of this, too: When moved, Bubba is as quick to cry as to laugh. The crying gets way more attention. Predictably, Bubba melted on Tuesday.

The same escort who took him to Butler Cabin to receive the jacket last year sat next to Bubba on the stage on Tuesday, and Bubba was reminded of their conversation last year, when the escort asked Bubba what he wanted to do with the jacket.

Bubba and Angie, who cannot conceive children, completed their arduous adoption process just before last year's tournament. That kept Angie and Caleb from traveling. Missing them, Bubba's response about the jacket dissolved him last year; and, again, Tuesday:

"I told him I wanted to wrap Caleb up in it," Bubba said, and he wept for 2 minutes. "Out of respect and honor for Augusta National . . . I wouldn't do any of my funny antics.

"Only thing I did was wrap Caleb up in it."

You gotta love Bubba.

The blubbering, the ADD, the crazy shots: This is why fans here holler, "Go Dogs!" when he passes, and why they visit the sacred spot.

Like pilgrims to Canterbury, in a steady stream, they mince down the slick slope, deeper and deeper into the shadows until they reach the flat. They look at what he saw - a chute of daylight tunneling toward a scoreboard on the fairway's far side - and they shake their heads.

The four pimply young guys in UGA Bulldogs hats shake their heads. The two sauced guys from South Florida with eight empty beer cups shake their heads. Even the old heads cannot get their heads around it.

On Sunday, while playing Augusta with Angie, Bubba trundled down the hill on No. 18, which runs parallel to 10, and, to his right, he saw three people milling about in the hollow. Bubba being Bubba, he ambled over . . . and found Billy Casper, who won a Masters, two U.S. Opens and 65 other pro tournaments. Bubba directed Casper to the proper spot.

Casper shook his head.

That was the third time Bubba returned to the site. Two weeks ago, he brought his manager and a childhood friend to play the course and they wanted to see the spot and take pictures. He showed Angie on Sunday when they played No. 10. He bypassed it when he and Rickie Fowler practiced Monday.

"Rickie didn't have any interest in going over there," Bubba said.

Neither did Phil Mickelson, perhaps the only golfer alive sufficiently audacious and talented to try it.

Neither did Tiger; though Tiger did say that a righthander could pull off the shot (himself, no doubt). Then, somewhat pugnaciously, Tiger listed the reasons why a lefty like Bubba would have an advantage over a righty (like himself, no doubt): fairway contour, club selection, green slope and speed.

"He pulled off an unbelievable shot," Tiger said, coolly, "that will certainly go down as one of the best ever."

Don't expect to see it again. Bubba will never try it, unless it is in tournament play.

You can pull the sword from the stone only once.

"I have to try to get my name to keep going throughout history, so I don't want to hit it again," said Bubba, who donated the wedge to Augusta. "I don't want anybody to see the bad [tries]."

That was his first acknowledgment that the shot might even be hard for him. He continuously has insisted that the shot is part of his enormous repertoire.

"A lot of professional golfers can [visualize] it. Doing it's the hard part," Bubba said.

"I'm obviously going to say, I'm the only one that can do it."

He paused.

"I'm the only one that had a chance to do it."

He's the only one who has the guts.

On Twitter: @inkstainedretch

Columns: Philly.com/MarcusHayes