By Donald Frump
Earlier this week, I had the unique experience of attending a practice round at storied Augusta National. One of the things that made the day special was the company I was with. I was fortunate to be with a group of veterans who were invited to attend including two Medal of Honor recipients. Considering there are only 65 living members of this elite club, that’s a pretty big f…ing deal. Some of them were big golfers/fans and some weren’t but all enjoyed the experience of being at this place.
Here are a few things that didn’t surprise me and a few that did…
I certainly wasn’t shocked by how beautiful the grounds were. As has been covered ad nauseum in the media, Augusta National is truly a special place visually. The entire experience is intentionally aspirational and not entirely approachable. You never feel like you quite belong there because, well, you don’t. When you arrive, you meander through what could be described as a small village of immaculate white buildings. All of them have signs like “Media Center – Invitation Only”. It is Augusta speak for “don’t even think about coming near here”. I truly felt like I was at someone’s very exclusive home. Well, not so much at their home, but walking through their gated community. It’s as if there is an invisible tension between the members and the commerciality of the tournament. Ironically, the hosts’ outsized social status is directly linked to the commercial event that they host every year. I’m guessing it’s a dichotomous pretzel of emotions for the rich and aimless. Again, this is not unexpected. Because I am not the biggest golf fan in the world, I wasn’t necessarily taken aback though I did respect the significance of the place I found myself.
The grass doesn’t seem real and the fairways look like sod farms (blasphemy). Not a blade of grass is out of place. Every small detail has been considered and handled with aplomb. Another thing I observed that was consistent with the lore was the sheer cleanliness of every inch of the place. This is not just because there were hundreds of people with sticks with small claws at the end of them picking up anything that fell on the ground. It’s also because the “patrons” we are forced to call each other (only here) revere the place as much as the good old boys running it.
There were a few things that surprised me. I guess one of them, while not unique to The Masters, is that tens of thousands of people would show up to watch a bunch of guys practice golf. One of the veterans and I kept repeating Allen Iverson’s “talking about practice” line. I’ve been to golf tournaments before and know the crowd tends to be quite golfy (guys head to toe in golf gear, including shoes, as if they think they might be invited to play a few holes) but I just couldn’t believe how many people were there and how intrigued they were to watch warmups. This sort of brings me to my second point which is, while Augusta does its best to herd people around with an invisible arm, the lines at the souvenir store, concessions (yes everything there was great and inexpensive), and especially bathrooms were downright Disneyish.
One of the more pleasant surprises was how the players approached the day. It was clear that today’s professional golfers are incredibly disciplined and use technology and information to maximize performance. Whether walking around with iPad toting coaches on practice greens or repeatedly taking shots from different positions on the fairway, the competitors are constantly honing their craft. As a result, I sort of expected them to be standoffish and annoyed by the adoring “you da man” crowd. That wasn’t the case. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as the fans (oops) and did a lot of schtick and (lost on me) golf humor with the adoring masses. At one point I witnessed a guy propose to his girlfriend next to one of the tee boxes. When the group of players walked up right after, there was a fair amount of jocularity and a few photo ops and jokes about if she’d said no. The players tended to be clustered in self-selected groups which helped their mood. The three most well-known Spaniards in one, a few Australians and another, and of course, the rebels from the LIV tour laying low in small packs. Everyone seemed to be getting along. It’s almost as if they realize that they’re some of the luckiest mofos on the face of the earth.
Side note – I wish I had some pictures to include in this article but one of the most annoying policies of The Masters is no phones are permitted on the grounds. I think this rule is totally understandable for the actual tournament days but there’s really no reason for that to be the case during the practice rounds. I was aware of this beforehand and scrambled to get my old point-and-shoot camera up and running. Unfortunately, one of the settings must have been off and the pictures I got were as blurry as Grandma’s old photo albums. More than anything, I’m disappointed that I can’t share pictures with the veterans. I’m guessing the guys in green jackets smirk over their palmetto cheese sandwiches with the thought that they make it so difficult to capture a little bit of their sacred cathedral. Maybe they should focus some of their attention on the grown men (and women) who are unapologetically pulling empty logo-adorned beer cups out of trash cans and stuffing them in their bags.
I guess I would sum it up this way, unlike a handful of people who told me it was a “bucket list” trip, my visit was a good experience. I don’t need to do it again. For an objective sports-not-big-golf fan, it probably lives up to about 60% of the hype. I acknowledge that would probably creep up a few percentage points if I was there for an actual round. The highlight of my visit, however, had nothing to do with the course or the event. It was getting to spend a day with soft-spoken unassuming American heroes. Seeing them enjoy our day is a picture that I do get to keep forever, only in my mind, unfortunately.
Photo credit: Shutterstock
