Four months before a plane crash took his life, Stewart captured the national championship on Pinehurst's No.2 course with a vivid display of style, courage, judgement and skill

In his last U.S. Open, Payne Stewart left golf with an artful depiction of the game’s cardinal virtues. Four months before a plane crash took his life, Stewart captured the national championship on Pinehurst’s No. 2 course with a vivid display of style, courage, judgment and skill.

Style, of course, had always been a staple of Stewart’s game. It was not just the plus-fours and the tam o’shanters that set him apart. It was the elegant fluidity of the way he struck the ball and maneuvered it into the hole. He simply looked good on a golf course. A lot of golfers would have looked unkempt had they done what Stewart did before the Open’s final round, which began in a misty drizzle. He hacked the sleeves off a rain jacket and played all afternoon with his shoulders protruding from ragged sockets. On him, it looked appropriate. He was the dandy, but he was also the Missouri boy who could play.

And what word but courage describes the strength of mind Stewart displayed? Pinehurst No. 2, in contrast to some recent Open layouts, adroitly identified the best players in the world. By Sunday morning, the leader board looked very similar to the top of the world rankings. Stewart held a one-stroke lead, but Phil Mickelson was a stroke back and Tiger Woods was two behind. David Duval and Vijay Singh were within striking distance. Stewart had to cope not only with them, but with the memories of two recent Opens, in 1993 and 1998, when he came up short in the final round.

He had to face this field on a course that was breaking the will and the self-control of some of the world’s best golfers. Jose Maria Olazabal surrendered four strokes to par on the final four holes of the first round. Frustrated, he went back to his hotel room and put his right fist through a wall, breaking a bone and ending his Open. John Daly, after opening with a 68, found Donald Ross’s crowned greens increasingly insoluble. By Sunday, Daly would be reduced to hitting a moving ball en route to an 11 on the eighth hole.

Stewart, in contrast, refused to allow anything to fray his judgment. He showed this most clearly on the final hole. Leading by a stroke, he put his tee shot into the right rough. He faced a long second over a deep bunker to the green. Instead of running that risk, Stewart pitched out to the fairway. He knew better, he explained later, than to compound his initial mistake.

And if golfing skill is defined as the ability to get the ball in the hole, Stewart displayed that in abundance. On the final three greens, he sank putts of 25, 4 and 20 feet to finish par-birdie-par, a stroke ahead of Mickelson. When it was over, he let out a primal yell, body taut, fist clenched. It was an expression of joy, an expression of triumph.

An expression to remember him by.