I had the good fortune of having a practice round ticket for the Masters, provided by a great buddy, on Monday, and here’s what I noticed on my first trip to Augusta, Ga.:
* There is the world we live in, and there’s a separate world dictated by the Masters. Because the folks at Augusta National have boatloads of money and their reach of influence goes far, objective journalism isn’t the norm in their world.
There seem to be at least two radio stations that are Masters-oriented, and one commentator said the tournament should raise the price of a four-day pass to cut into scalpers’ business. (If it’s that hot a ticket, wouldn’t the scalpers find a way to survive anyway?)
And another commentator (or maybe the same one, I’m not sure) made the most unusual point that people would probably be willing to be tasered for the right to see the tournament, because it’s so wonderful. Now, people have died after being tasered. It’s a great tournament, but I probably wouldn’t risk my life just to see Tiger hit an approach shot. And I’m sure I’d have to watch Tiger over a 12-deep crowd (if the taser had not paralyzed me from the waist down).
* Now a few positive words. I thought all Augusta folks were nice, but once you get inside the course, you’ll be showered with southern hospitality. Masters employees — whether it’s people in concessions, security officials or even bathroom attendants — are so darn nice, you know it’s manufactured, but it feels good anyway.
And the grass is a deeper, truer shade of green than any green you have ever seen before. The azaleas are breathtaking. (I’ve heard people say that they’ll ship in a pine tree or azalea and plant it in the middle of the night just for the sake of beauty.) If you can’t be happy in a place that exults in the beauty of spring, you just can’t be happy.
* The Augusta Chronicle — while, I’m sure, limited in its impartiality by the fact that the newspaper company’s chairman is William Morris III, an Augusta National member — seems to do an outstanding job of covering every imaginable angle of the Masters. The Chronicle puts out an annual Masters preview tab that ran 96 pages, which is unheard of in today’s world of rising newsprint cost and fading print readership. The one thing you can count on is that the Associated Press Sports Editors tab competition will reward the Chronicle annually with top-10 notoriety. I was told that the one year the Chronicle won only APSE honorable mention for its tab, the paper called an emergency meeting to determine what could have possibly gone wrong.
* Beers really do cost $2 at the Masters. It’s a buck for a lemonade and either $1 or $1.50 (I forget) for their green plastic-wrapped egg salad or pimento sandwiches. Also worth noting: the practice round tickets originally went for a pretty reasonable $31. You have to send your name and social security number in to some sort of database to enter a lottery for a chance to get them. But there were people all over town days in advance with signs seeking practice-round tickets, which could go for $300 if not more.
* And then, of course, you have the players. I saw Gary Player, tuning up for his record 51st start, stick a short iron in close at No. 15. I saw Amen Corner, Nos. 11, 12 and 13, with more notable history than most PGA event courses. I saw Augusta native Larry Mize almost hole out on the par-3 No. 16 — after skipping his ball across the water, which most players do to please the fans. (I heard Tiger wouldn’t skip, but I wasn’t there, so I can’t say for sure. He didn’t play on the par-3 course on Augusta’s grounds Wednesday, which is a shame — it wouldn’t fit in his Masters preparation — because the fans would have loved that.)
In all, it was a great experience, and I’d love to go again, should I be so lucky.