AUGUSTA, GA — There was an age when springtime in Georgia could mean only one thing – the Masters was here.
Azalea’s blooming, fairways rolling and Greg Norman being handed the sort of disappointment that is usually reserved for wannabe brides and husbands on Married At First Sight.
But things have changed.
Yes, the first men’s major of the year is still the focus of golf-lovers around the world, but here in Augusta, the tournament has grown to mean so much more to so many people.
Two-time major winner John Daly is a case in point, his RV open for business in the carpark at Hooters, selling the kind of loud clothing that would make even Jason Day blush.
Now that really is a modern tradition unlike any other.
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The massive oak tree that stands in front of Augusta National’s clubhouse was a great place to seek relief from the warm April sun when Horton Smith took home $1500 for first place in 1934, but now it serves as the outdoor meeting point for those in the business of golf.
From player agents negotiating deals for appearance fees for their talent to come and play on your tour, to clothing reps looking for the chance to move some apparel, all the way to social media influencers hoping to catch the eye of any or all of the above.
If Times Square is the Crossroads of the World, the Oak Tree at Augusta National is the 19th hole of every course on the planet.
Many of the movers and shakers won’t make it past that big old oak while the practice rounds are on from Monday to Wednesday, but when they eventually do wander down the hill to Amen Corner they will stand and take in the sheer beauty of golf’s Sistine Chapel.
There is no more cared-for, manicured or aspirational three-hole stretch anywhere that golf is played.
What we see today when trembling golfers stand on the 12th tee, nerves frayed from having negotiated the long, severely downhill and outrageously difficult Par 4 11th, has been crafted over the decades to the point it’s hard to see how it could ever become more beautiful.
What makes it all the more alluring is that you can’t touch it, and only ever will if you’re lucky enough to be invited to play by an Augusta National member or you happen to be one of the elite golfers of the world.
The architectural elegance of the Ben Hogan bridge, the azaleas and dogwoods laid out to perfection amongst the towering pines, the mirror-like finish of Rae’s Creek and the slender sliver of putting surface – a combination that makes Golden Bell the most stunning but equally frightening par three in golf.
You sit and watch golf’s heroes trust that the club they selected carries the water, comes up short of golf’s most photographed garden, and finds a place anywhere on the green.
Then they walk away from you, heading over the bridge that bears the spike marks of all the legends, only to return after they’ve taken one last deep breath before hitting their drives out of the chute at Thirteen.
When the gates open each morning of Masters week, the patrons at the front of the queue walk briskly, but never run, to place their folding chairs in the natural amphitheatre of Amen Corner, most of them wishing they never had to leave.
It’s become a cliche to say that unless you’ve climbed the hills of the Augusta National layout you’ll never fully appreciate just how much the property falls and rises.
The first-timer arriving at the Masters thinks reality can’t possibly match the myth, but finds that not only is everything they’ve been told is true, it may well have been undersold.
On the few occasions it has snowed in Augusta, the more daring members might have considered strapping on some skis and pushing off down the hill at the Par 4 Tenth, a slope so steep it would be designated a double-black diamond run at Falls Creek.
The 10th runs parallel with the 18th but in opposite directions in regards to the hill, and the closing hole is a long, thigh-burning climb.
Given Tiger Woods’ well-documented leg injury, you wonder how he makes it up there through practice rounds and the tournament proper.
Late in the afternoon, when the lowering sun casts enormous shadows across the 18th fairway, it almost appears as though there’s a stairway that takes you up to the green and the clubhouse beyond.
If you close your eyes for just a moment you can let your imagination get the better of you you and wonder what it must be like to make that walk knowing that at the other end of it there’s a past champion waiting to help you into a green jacket.
That dream will never come true, and so we live vicariously this week hoping that an Aussie does what only Adam Scott has done before them.
Scott scraped into the weekend play by the skin of his movie star teeth, but it would take a miracle of some proportion for him to claim the title again.
Min Woo Lee was 10 shots back at the halfway mark, broken finger and all, joined there by Jason Day who isn’t hampered by a dodgy digit, but rather the weight of having to choose between outraging the golfing public by reaching into the cupboard for a pair of parachute pants or a polo shirt proclaiming that Golf is Life.
As if we didn’t know.
If there is a second Australian to win the Masters this year it’s almost that his name will be Cameron.
Davis or Smith.
The 193 centimetre-tall Cameron Davis has only won once on the PGA Tour, but at Monash Golf Club on Sydney’s northern beaches they’ve known for a long time that the now 29 year old was destined for a shot at winning a very big event at some point in his career.
Cameron Smith doesn’t have to imagine what it’s like to be a major-winner, having claimed the Claret Jug at the home of golf, no less, in the 150th Open Championship.
Now playing on the LIV Tour, his boss, Greg Norman, is in town, stirring up the establishment and hoping that one of the players from the league of which he is commissioner can claim the green jacket.
If we get to the second nine on Sunday, and it’s Smith charging hard as he did two years ago at St Andrews, we can only hope that Norman’s presence at the course that continually rejected his advances doesn’t stir the ghosts of fate, because as much as things have changed at Augusta National, there are some traditions that will never be broken.