Playing a Different Game

My old mother is starting to "lose it" a bit these days.  She gets a bit confused sometimes.  It happens when you're in your nineties.  

She watched the entire last round of the Open, with that epic battle between Stenson and Mickelson.  She was totally thrilled to see Stenson win his first Major.  She loves Stenson.  And she thought Henrik's wife was "absolutely beautiful."

Last night, at bedtime, we were discussing Stenson's incredible win again.  Granny said, "I couldn't understand it, really.  He (Stenson) was playing a different game.  But I loved the result."

I assured Granny that Henrik was playing the same game as the rest of them.  But, then again, maybe he wasn't.  It might have been the same game, but it was played at a whole different level.