For some golf fans, Feb. 19 effectively marked the start of the season.

It wasn't because Phil Mickelson finally got his game on track with a 63 at Riviera, rather it was the day Tiger Woods posted a statement on his Web site that filled golf with optimism it had been missing for eight months.

"I'm now ready to play again," Woods said, announcing his return from knee surgery.

What followed were plenty of memories in 2009. The fairy tale that turned into a heartbreaker at Turnberry when 59-year-old Tom Watson failed to make par from the middle of the 18th fairway and lost the British Open in a playoff. Henrik Stenson making more news for stripping down to his skivvies than for winning The Players Championship. Michelle Wie winning more tournaments than Vijay Singh.

Too bad so few people will remember.

Because the year effectively ended Dec. 11 with another statement Woods posted on his Web site.

"After much soul searching, I have decided to take an indefinite break from professional golf," he said.

Mark those two dates as the alpha and omega of the 2009 season, and allow yourself to soak up some of the moments in between.

It wasn't the best year in golf _ it can't be, not with as much focus on the runner-up as the winner.

Angel Cabrera won the Masters at the expense of Kenny Perry, at 48 trying to become the oldest major champion. Lucas Glover's magnificent 8-iron to the 16th at Bethpage Black was overshadowed by Mickelson missing two short par putts. Stewart Cink denied the golf world one of its greatest stories by beating Watson in the playoff. And Y.E. Yang made more news for whom he beat (Woods) than what he won (the PGA Championship).

With a putt here and a chip there, the major champions could have just as easily been Chad Campbell, Ricky Barnes and Chris Wood.

Watson might have been the most celebrated runner-up in history, trumping Greg Norman's collapse in the 1996 Masters. Even five months later, it all seems so impossible that a player past his prime even by Champions Tour standards could crouch over an 8-foot putt with a chance to put his name on the claret jug again, 34 years after it first was engraved.

A devastating loss? It apparently was for reporters, but not for the man.

"This ain't a funeral, you know," Watson said with that gap-tooth grin as he walked into the media center.