The Masters
Tiger Woods teeing off # 12. ©Andrew Redington/ Getty Images/ Ideal Image.
Pine scents, peach flavors and Pantone 342 shades
Most people dislike pine trees.
Invoked reasons include straw, pollen, cones, flammability and resin. All of the aforementioned, however, were attributes we couldn’t have cared less of as kids. The pine tree that dominated our family house garden had low shady branches that provided convenient bars to hang a tree swing for endless swaying on warm summer days; that was all the gold in the world. A strong affection for pines was established thereafter.
On our first Masters Friday, the second week of April, the sun in Augusta was bright and warm. Short sleeves, hats and SPF 70 sunscreens were deployed. We were walking the back 9 in reverse, our hands occupied with bags of commemorative stuff (plus a chair and an umbrella that we had no clue if they would be allowed onboard our flight back). While approaching Amen Corner from the 13th, we were considering the high risk that lies is in the procedure of idolising places, people or items.
It’s called reality check: the real thing can rarely rival its carte-postale.
As the pine straw of Amen Corner cracked under our Footjoys, though, everything suddenly went symphonic: The pine smell, the thick shade, silica sand particles from the bunkers sending albedo signals of 1.0 in earth observational satellites, azalea flowers in full blossom, feathery seeds from the trees falling in slow motion and never landing. Childhood core memories blended with adulthood expectations that got exceeded by far. A chair was unfolded right next to the rope, a pimento cheese was out, the ice in the Coke was still solid and the Georgia peach ice-cream sandwich still frozen. So was time: no watch, no mobile phone, no perception of it. We were sinking in a quicksand of Pantone 342 (the exact green shade of the Masters) and didn’t care to fight the sinkage.
Patrick Cantlay walking towards the 13th green. ©Andrew Redington/ Getty Images/ Ideal Image.
The Toughest Ticket in Sports
The Masters is held in Augusta National Golf Club annually, during the second week of April. These are the only 10 days when non members can -hopefully- enter the club and witness the best players in the world compete in an impossibly maintained course. Tickets are not expensive; the problem is you almost never get a chance of buying them. An official lottery takes place each June on which people have been known to apply for 25 years straight with no luck. Aftermarket is way too expensive (appr. 2k for a single day, 10k for a weekly pass) let alone risky, as reselling tickets is prohibited thus entrance is not guaranteed.
Shifting a gear up from high unlikely to impossible, there’s Berckmans Place: it’s the VVIP wing next to the 5th fairway that is rightfully the toughest ticket in all sports (including VIP booths on Superbowl final). The cost for attendance is 6000$, but your money is no good except if you are a “friend” of Augusta National Golf Club. If you get in, though, you get treated with an assortment of restaurants where credit, cash and even tips are not allowed. Exclusive shops with product lines that have inverted logos, just to inform the world you’ve been there. And true to speed replicas of hole #7, 14 and 16 greens, with Augusta National caddies in the role of living AimPoints.
On a metric of quickest response time between reading a text message and booking a transatlantic flight, we must rightfully rank up there with the world’s best since the day our friends in Atlanta texted “we have two Berckmans Place invitations with your name on them”.
A Masterful Orchestration
The cliché says perfection is unattainable, but while chasing perfection you can catch excellence.
The staff in Augusta National, however, are not preparing 355 days a year in order to settle with anything but perfect during those 10 days. Their dedication is truly next level and the amount of efficiency achieved is terrifying. They deal with approximately 40k patrons (the term that Augusta National uses to refer to its guests) on each practice round and championship day during the Masters week. These people need to eat, drink, buy souvenirs, orientate, use the restrooms. And all these need to happen in sheer elegance, this is no rowdy music festival.
In agronomical terms, the greens, fairway landing areas, crosswalks and even some tee boxes are SubAir equipped to regulate humidity and drainage whereas soil temperature is also controlled. The benefits are especially evident after a heavy downpour or just by looking at # 13 tee which is boxed deep within high trees, where normally no turf would thrive. Even throughout championship days, groundskeepers equipped with Stihl blowers were caressing each green after every player group to clear sand and fallen leaves.
The gatekeeper of the 13th-14th grandstand asked about our hometown in an honest manner, not the robotic kindness you get from some coffee shop employee of the month. Upon our reply, he reminisced summertimes in Santorini and friends in Rafina. Staff in the souvenir shop also fired up conversation, despite their heavy workload (shop revenue estimate is 1 million dollars every hour during Masters week). An army of youngsters with telescopic handles beamed out of nowhere to pick the slightest artificial debris on the grass within seconds. Humour came where you would last expect it, such as the mens restrooms (“Kindly proceed, it’s like TSA control only you get to keep yous shoes on!”). All instruments were tuned in the same key.
Groundskeepers with blowers caressing each green after every player group to clear sand and fallen leaves. ©EPA-EFE/Erik S. Lesser
And then there’s the patrons. Which was where this notoriously strict framework of ANGC truly paid off. We admit having been initially reluctant as to how it might foster a kind of sterile experience, but it was quite the contrary: everything balanced on a thin line between respectful yet organic behaviour. Attendees were constantly aware of their privilege to be present and also knew that if they didn’t behave, they’d get ejected and banned for life. So the occasional stupid-guy-doing-stupid-things was repelled, which was such a blessing. Nobody also needed to resort to primary-school-level restrictions to avoid wasted zombies due to alcohol consumption. Everything was resolved on a root level.
Halfway Chair
A line in the ANGC rulebook declares that each patron can set up a name-tagged chair without arms, anywhere outside the ropes and nobody will move or occupy it. He can then walk around the course most of the day following his favourite groups and return at any given time; the seat will be there for him. In the 9th fairway 20m before the green, first row was the one with our tag. After walking next to Tiger and Homa for 6 holes, experiencing the thunder-like roar of the gallery on the former’s birdie on #3, rooting for Fred Couples and Tommy Fleetwood and gradually losing contact with everyone else in our group, we returned to the chair on 9th, alone. We leaned back, checked the schedule and for the next hour enjoyed the feast as it unfolded before our eyes. Groups 24-29 included performances from:
Phil Mickelson, Tony Finau, Sepp Straka
Joaquin Niemann, Nick Taylor, Russell Henley
Rickie Fowler, Patrick Cantlay, Min Woo Lee
Hideki Matsuyama, Justin Thomas, Will Zalatoris
Jon Rahm, Matt Fitzpatrick, Nick Dunlap
Scottie Scheffler, Rory McIlroy, Xander Schauffele
Upon the latter group reaching the green, the crosswalk on the 9th fairway opened.
We had to rush towards the North Gate and reunite with the rest of the group. Whilst crossing the fairway, we spared 10 seconds to pause and turn right towards the green: Scheffler, Schaufelle and McIlroy were putting under soft afternoon light a few meters ahead of us with the gallery engulfing them in perfect symmetry. The ground crew smiled and made a head nod. We should get rolling, still be careful to just speedwalk as running is prohibited.
Golf’s most debated footwork in action: Scottie Scheffler tees off on the 18th during the last round of the Masters. © David Cannon/ Getty Images/ Ideal Image
Leaving Neverland
A last glimpse of the clubhouse umbrellas before rushing to the North Gate, along Washington Rd, past the water tower, towards the Executive Club to reunite with the rest of the crew. A band was playing, the BBQ was smoking, a mile down Washington Rd in the opposite direction John Daly’s van was parked in the parking of Hooters and a meet-and-greet was held with fans all week long.
Strong crosswind gusts over Augusta airport couldn’t induce nervousness: having just watched the cream of the world’s players performing in an impeccable stage had an aftereffect of a breezy buzz, the kind that leaves no hangover the next day. After all, tomorrow was yet another big day: an invitation was open to Atlanta Athletic Club to tour the Bobby Jones museum (AAC was Jones’ home club before he acquired the land in Augusta to build Augusta National - a feature is underway).
The flock of lear jets in Augusta airport during The Masters has been well documented in Golf Digest posts every year. Nevertheless, it was still hard to believe in person, as the FlexJet Falcon rolled towards the runway amongst them. The exact same applies to Southern Hospitality. We were well aware of the term, but having such an exemplary display of it by a group of its finest ambassadors, was another thing. JP, ME, TF, MM, JO and NS, thanks for the memories. Greek hospitality won’t stay inert in this game of exceeding expectations, the summer’s just around the corner and next round is on home ground.-
The crosswalk of hole # 1© EPA-EFE/Justin Lane
