I arrived at the green, looked up, and there it was: his name sitting at the very top of the leaderboard. It was a capital-S Surprise after the way the day had unfolded and the number of birdies we’d let slip along the way; but without realizing it, that was the story for everyone.
You hear it all the time in situations like this: “no one wanted to win.” We’d had our chances after a strong opening nine holes in three under par, but the par at 10 (a short par 4 you could drive) and, above all, the bogey at 11 from barely 20 yards off the green felt like the end of a beautiful tale.
Then came the birdie at 12 after a superb wedge shot, and we reached the edge of the green in two at 13 (a par 5). We were right back in it—or at least that’s what we both thought without even saying a word. But again, a punch to the stomach. A poor third shot, a par that tasted like bogey, and the feeling it was slipping away once more, knowing how many holes the players behind still had to play. And then, a huge bonus at 14 when everything seemed to be fading… The heart started racing again, knowing that a strong finish could bring us victory.
And there we were, the two of us, in that exact moment, staring at the scoreboard by the 15th green we’d been dreaming about for so long: Iván Cantero was co-leader of the Bapco Energies Bahrain Championship. And the best part of that moment was that we had the chance to break the tie with a birdie putt of around five metres, right-to-left. It wasn’t our best effort, but once again we had the opportunity to tip the scales after a magnificent 6-iron into 16. This time it was four metres, also right-to-left. And this time he said to me: “Adolf, I can miss one, but not two.” But the golf gods weren’t with us that Sunday. That one slipped away too, and this time we were left with very little margin for error.
A routine par at 17 meant we had to chase a birdie at the 72nd hole to have any chance of winning. But, my friend, that hole had never looked good to us all week. Water on the right and, above all, two bunkers guarding the left side were far from ideal allies. We’d already found them on Saturday and walked away with bogey after three-putting from about 25 metres. On Sunday, unfortunately, we would visit them again. The hybrid came out turning over and we ran straight into it. With hindsight, some will say we should have played short of that hazard, but we chose that club because we knew that if we held it off just a touch, we’d comfortably carry the water on the right. That wouldn’t have been the case with a 4-iron.
The pressure was obvious. Par was non-negotiable if we wanted a chance to make the playoff. The second shot from the sand wasn’t our best, and the recovery—again from the bunker and with plenty of green to work with—was simply too difficult given the circumstances.
We were left with a bitter taste, especially after the tournament’s cruel finish involving Pablo Larrazábal. All the Spaniards went to the 18th green to celebrate his victory because we all assumed he’d make four after a flawless tee shot. But if the gods weren’t with us, what can you say about Pablo. Three putts left us frozen. We tried to carry him through in sudden death, but that tournament had Laurie Canter’s name written on it. Fittingly, we’d played with the Englishman on Saturday, and I have to say he holed putts from every corner. It was a fairly ordinary day, rescued brilliantly on the greens. And that’s the thing: to win you need those days when the game doesn’t quite flow, but you’re still able to sign for 68 or 69.
Cantero’s fourth place was, without doubt, the best moment of the year. A season that started superbly and seemed to be pointing towards a win, but gradually began to turn, and hasn’t ended in the best possible way.
Will 2026 be the year of the first one?
*Adolfo Juan Luna is Iván Cantero’s caddie
