Philadelphia, PA -- (Sports Network) - I opened an e-mail from my dad early on Sunday. He was gloating, but not without a good reason to be.

"I said Ryuji Imada was the pick this week -- 3 STROKES BEHIND LEADER!"

Now, my dad is a sharp guy at 55 years old, and a sports fan long enough that he's seen just about everything. He's been a witness to just about every situation in every sport, and he's got a memory like an elephant, which he relies on, like I do, to recount stories in historical context.

"I remember that, because it was the same day that ..."

You get the picture. There are a lot of my co-workers who have the same talent, able to recount situations in their lives with specific dates and times based on something else that happened that day, usually sports related.

But I don't think my dad remembered what had happened to Ryuji Imada at last year's AT&T Classic, probably only because he didn't watch it. Famous in our family for his predictions, whether they pan out or not ("It's OK. Burrell's going to homer here anyway"), dad's always picking somebody to do something.

Last week was Imada's turn, for whatever reason. And it couldn't have been a better guess.

Imada claimed his first PGA Tour victory on Sunday by winning a playoff against the older, better-experienced Kenny Perry. But it wasn't just that he won, it was HOW he won.

At the same tournament last year, Imada lost to Zach Johnson in a playoff after he tried to muscle a shot onto the green from the rough at the TPC Sugarloaf's tough, par-five 18th hole.

Imada's ball found the water fronting the green, and Johnson walked off with the win.

Three shots behind the leader this past Sunday -- as my dad correctly pointed out -- Imada rallied and tied Perry with a birdie at the 18th hole in regulation.

Still looking for his first PGA Tour victory, Imada got a second chance to make it happen on the same hole and against another proven winner.

And it couldn't have ended in a more bizarre fashion.

All Imada needed to beat Perry was a routine, two-putt par at the 18th after Perry's second shot -- a five-wood from the fairway -- clanked off a tree trunk behind the green, then barreled swiftly across the length of the putting surface and into the same water that claimed Imada's ball last year.

For a moment, neither player was sure what had happened. Perry could be heard asking where the ball went.

"I never dreamed it ..." Perry said later, unable to finish the thought. "I must have been pumped up cause it hit the tree trunk over there and shot it across the green into the water. What are you going to do?"

Now probably needing only a five to win, Imada had a decision to make. Stuck in the same rough that foiled his chances last year, he could go for the green in two and risk another "Tin Cup" moment, or lay up and play the hole for a par.

I know what my dad's advice would have been: the same advice any sane, rational person would have given Imada. In the end, there was really only one option.

"I had one thing on my mind coming into this week, to get a win," said Imada.

And so he laid up into the fairway, knocked his third shot to 26 feet and two- putted for the par. He dodged a bullet, too, when Perry missed a mid-range par putt that would have extended the playoff.

I wasn't there when my dad saw Imada had finally won, but I was thinking about him. And I'll be thinking about him during next year's AT&T Classic, when inevitably he will recount: "I remember that, because it was the same week I picked him to win."

"I never really believed in destiny," said Imada, "but I'm starting to believe it."

Dad saw it coming all along.