The Masters - What it Means to Me

For sports fans, it’s easily the most relaxing and soothing theme song ever that simultaneously gives you goose bumps and gets you fired up.

It’s time once again to celebrate Augusta, GA’s most important contribution (other than birthplace of James Brown), THE MASTERS. By far, it is my favorite golf tournament each year, and probably ranks in the top 3 of all my favorite sports events. While other golf majors shift courses every year, there’s always the second week in April to enjoy the azaleas, pine trees, and lighting fast greens.

What makes it so special for me is the fact that everyone involved (golfers, caddies, patrons, CBS announce crew, etc.) realizes they are stepping on hallowed ground when they go inside the gates and honors that tradition. I do not know of another sporting event that has that sort of feeling. Even the Super Bowl lacks that due to corporate influence. The Masters is like an anti-Super Bowl.

I was fortunate to be able to see 2 practice rounds there in 2005. As beautiful as it looks on your HDTV, it’s about 100 times more impressive in person. One thing most people do not realize is how hilly and long the course is to walk. You really get a workout trucking it around the course. All of the vendor wrappers, cups, etc. are green as to blend in with the grass. It’s also the last place on earth you can get a bag of chips for $.50 and a beer for $2.00. They do get you in the souvenir tent, which of course is the only place to buy authentic shirts, hats, or anything else with their famous logo. Can’t fault them for that. The practice rounds provide an interesting insight to the golfers themselves, as you can see they’re trying to relax, but they know the pressure that lies ahead for them come Thursday morning. The European golfers tend to pal around each other, while guys like Tiger, Phil, and others hang with their friends, or will play with the amateurs who got invited to participate. The holes and greens are exactly as you picture them. Augusta is almost like a living museum or monument to the game of golf.

However, the one thing that will stick with me the most about my visit has to do with the crowd (patrons, as the Augusta brass refers to them). Every person I met in the gallery, from kids to high rollers, knew how lucky they were to be there. I’ve never seen a more polite and courteous group of strangers (Rebecca was 8 months pregnant at our visit and we had people bending over backwards to make sure she could see and was comfortable). We were walking up one of the fairways, and a man about 20 feet in front of us had a sandwich wrapper blow out of his hand. Before he had a chance to turn around to get it, a stranger walking about 10 paces behind bent down, without breaking stride, and picked up the wrapper and placed it in a trash can. It was if he was treating the grounds like his own yard, and you realize you must be someplace special.

Good luck to the competitors and I hope I can enjoy my Easter Sunday afternoon by watching a shootout on the back 9. I'm pulling for Padraig Harrington, go get that Paddy Slam!