AUGUSTA – As the late afternoon shadows encroached on the Augusta National Golf Club Sunday and Ángel Cabrera’s tee shot on the final hole lay directly behind a tree, it soon would be confirmed that destiny was his partner.

His second shot connected with timber a few yards away, and the ball bounded into the fairway. From there, he hit the ball onto the green and made the putt to escape into a playoff, which he won. Immediately, I thought of Sam Snead, who won everything there is to win in golf — except the United States Open.

Years ago, on the veranda of the Augusta National Golf Club one weekday Masters morning, Snead reflected on his golf career and his failure to win the Open. “I think things are supposed to be,” Snead said. “Predestination, more or less. If it’s gonna be, it’s gonna be. If I’m gonna beat him, I’m gonna beat him. If it’s not to be, well, it just seems like it’s not to be.”

That summed up Snead’s explanation for his failure to win a tournament that Andy North won twice (while only winning one other tourney). Orville Moody won the Open, but never won again on tour.

Perhaps Sam Snead was right in his view of things. Cabrera’s second shot could have gotten him deeper in trouble, but the ball landed safely in the fairway, where his competent up-and-down game kept him alive and led to a second major title.

Kenny Perry, who endured the back of fate’s hand, may agree not only with Sam, but Ed Sneed as well. At the 1979 Masters, Sneed had a three-stroke lead and bogeyed the last three holes to fall into a playoff, which he lost on the second extra hole to Fuzzy Zoeller.

Several months later, Sneed had these thoughts: “I don’t really think people look at me as a loser. I think it’s been generally a sympathetic attitude (from the public). It was very hard at the time. It was a tough way to lose a golf tournament. I don’t think it changed my life greatly. Nobody died, nobody got hurt, I just didn’t win a golf tournament that I was supposed to.”

Sneed held out hope that he might win the Masters. He was still a young man at the time, 36, but it was not to be. When you are 48, like Kenny Perry, you have to believe this was his last chance to win a major.

There is another memorable Masters scene that took place following the 1975 tournament. Jack Nicklaus finished with 68, to take the lead in one of the most exciting finishes ever at Augusta. Tom Weiskopf and Johnny Miller, playing later, could have forced a playoff with birdies at the final hole.

Each missed makeable birdie putts, and Nicklaus won for the fifth time. Afterwards, in the locker room, Tom Weiskopf sat dejectedly and said poignantly, “This really hurts. You never know if you will ever be in position again to win the Masters.”

This is a week when Kenny Perry should hold his head high. He gave a good account of himself, but he has to lament that he, like Ed Sneed, let his best shot at winning a major get away.

Sam Snead would have had this to say about Ángel Cabrera’s unlikely route to victory. In his view, it was simply meant to be — which is a reminder of what happened to Cabrera’s countryman Roberto De Vicenzo. He finished the 1968 Masters with a flourish that included a birdie on the 17th hole, but his playing partner Tommy Aaron inadvertently wrote down a four. When De Vicenzo signed the incorrect scorecard, the higher score became official. Instead of a spot in a playoff, he lost outright to Bob Goalby.

In the locker room, De Vicenzo sat where Tom Weiskopf would sit seven years later, and with his head in his hands, uttered one of the classic quotes in the history of sport, “Oh, what a stupid I am!”

If it is any consolation to Kenny Perry, the great Sam Snead would suggest to him that Sunday’s final was simply meant to be.