Golf writer regrets skipping golf to watch Rory McIlroy win Masters. Here's why

I’ll never forget watching Rory McIlroy win the 2025 Masters on television.

The drama was as high as I can ever remember. A generational player, who I’ve been rooting for since he burst on the scene as a teenager, rose to the occasion, overcoming failures, to win the green jacket and the career grand slam. It was must-see TV. However, choosing to watch that cost me the opportunity to see my all-time favorite player have the round of a lifetime.

Sadly, that’s what I remember most.

That player is my grandfather, Ed Bates of Havana. Many know him as “Big Ed” but he’s just “Gramps” to me. He was the head pro and club manager at Havana Golf & Country Club for three decades and taught me most of what I know about golf. He’s 92 now and last year had to give up playing after a medical spell made it too hard to keep his sweet swing turning. Last Masters Sunday, he shot a 76 and I missed it.

I had a feeling, too. My Dad was urging me to play that day and I really wanted to. Playing with Gramps has always been one of my favorite pastimes, but I talked myself into a day staring at the TV to watch Rory. I’ve been regretting it ever since.

Jay Revell, second from left, stands next to his grandfather Ed Bates. Other golfers include Corbett Proctor,, left, and John Revell.

Dad called me shortly after Rory made his winning putt. I figured he wanted to recap an epic Masters. Instead, he gave me a shot-by-shot recount of Gramps’ epic round. “Jay, you missed something special today,” he told me. “He couldn’t miss.”

Dad walked me through dozens of moments where Gramps turned back the clock to beat his age by 15 shots. A mountain of pars. Birdies that made the group shout. A hot putter and his signature fairway finding drives. I immediately sank into the couch, knowing I had made a big mistake.

Ed Bates recounts his golf round with grandson Jay Revell

I called Gramps next to hear the tale straight from the horse’s mouth. I could tell he was proud of how he played, but he’s about as even keel as they come. “Yeah, I had a good one,” he said. The funny thing was even though Dad and others didn’t expect such a low round from a nonagenarian, Gramps played for so long because he always thought he could do it well. He told me, “I hit it well, putted it well, and scored well. That’s how you’re supposed to do it, though.”

Before we hung up, I told Gramps that I hated to miss seeing such a pretty round. Eager to play with him, we made a date to do so later that month. I decided to take off on a Thursday afternoon to join him and Dad for the weekly gangsome in Havana. I’m glad I did because that turned out to be the last time I would get to do it.

The magic he found last Masters Sunday wasn’t quite there that day. He beat his age again of course, but it wasn’t a 76. I played ok, but was much more interested in watching him swing. We had a lovely time. Just like hundreds of times before.

After the round, I carried out a ritual that I’ve been doing for the last few years. I took the ball I played with that day and swapped it out with the last ball I had used to play with him. I had been hanging on to those each time just in case it was the last. You just never know when your grandfather is in his 90’s.

I’ve still got that ball in my bag. A Titleist Pro V1x. Red 8. I hoped I would get the chance to toss that one out too, but I didn’t. A month or so later, his health went south for a bit. He bounced back, but his golfing days didn’t.

I’m blessed to have had so many golf memories with him. He and my grandmother took me to play Jr. tournaments all over the region. He gave me more lessons and knowledge about the game than I can ever remember. He was my high school golf coach, biggest fan, and always made himself available to talk through my game. Most importantly, anytime I wanted to play, the answer was always yes.

Now it’s April 12, 2026, Masters Sunday again.

There will be drama. Someone will win a green jacket. Dreams will come true. Unfortunately, I’ll be glued to the TV again and wishing I was in Havana watching my true golf hero chase a low score. I’ll call him after the tournament to get his thoughts, but that’s just not the same as playing by his side.

What a thing to miss.

Jay Revell is a golf writer based in Tallahassee, Florida who has written two books: Swing, Walk, Repeat and The Nine Virtues of Golf.

This article originally appeared on Tallahassee Democrat: Grandpa's golf round was better than the Masters