PACIFIC PALISADES, Calif. — The scariest putt in golf is somewhere between three and four feet.

Short enough that you expect to make it.

Long enough that you might not.

It gets tougher, I’d imagine, to hit a three-and-a-half footer with 5,000 people watching from the hillside in front of you.

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Tougher when they’ve just gasped in horror at what you’ve just done.

Tougher still when one of those people is Rory McIlroy, who just so happens to be one stroke behind you.

And tougher when another is Tiger Woods, your childhood hero, looking on from a perch beside the clubhouse, 50 yards and 500 miles away, waiting to shake your hand as long as you can somehow get your ball to the bottom of that hole.

It gets tougher when you’re on the brink of winning your first PGA Tour event, something you’ve dreamt of your entire life, something you know you can do but also know isn’t guaranteed.

And tougher knowing that missing wouldn’t just mean letting an opportunity slip by — it would mean blowing a six-stroke lead, crashing on the final turn, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

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It gets tougher when the pressure hasn’t slowly mounted, but instead, after three rounds and 15 holes of low stress and many birdies, it hits like a freight train, with a shrinking lead, a growing crowd, decibels, nerves and heart rate rising by the minute.

And it gets tougher when you can’t feel your hands.

SUNDAY BROUGHT THE MOST GLORIOUS WEATHER in the history of Los Angeles, tied for first with 80 percent of all days in L.A. history, 70 degrees and sunny, deep blue cloudless sky matching the deep blue ocean just visible from the balcony of Riviera Country Club’s iconic clubhouse.

That was the setting for the final round of the Genesis Invitational, which felt like it could go one of two directions. Jacob Bridgeman began the day with a six-shot lead over Rory McIlroy and seven-plus over the rest of the gang, having played nearly flawless golf through three rounds. Bridgeman has been very good and very steady since last season, but entering Sunday he’d never won. Would he succumb to the pressure, blow up and yield to the chase pack? Or would he keep his foot on the gas and continue speeding away from the rest of the field? Those felt like the two options.

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Instead, much of the day settled in the awkward in-between.

There are few better golf settings than the iconic old-school cool of Riviera, though early tee times plus an L.A. crowd living up to its get-there-in-the-fourth-inning reputation led to a slightly muted early stretch.

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