WANTED: Compassionate, philanthropic Augusta National Golf Club member (or Masters Champion) to provide invitation for one round of golf at the home of the Masters.
WANTED: Actual golf coverage of The Masters before 4 p.m. on Thursday and Friday — more than four minutes of commercial breaks would be tolerated.
WANTED: A Green Jacket — or at least be allowed to wear one for five minutes of my life.
WANTED: Un-Tiger-proofing of Augusta National, to bring the course back to the field and turn the Masters back into a shootout.
(ALSO SEEKING: Prohibition of the term “Tiger-proofing” from any golf broadcast ever — if courses were Tiger-proofed [something that is not possible, by the way] he would never win. I think by now everyone should get that the endeavor is futile.)
WANTED: Arnold Palmer to provide the ceremonial start to every Masters; Gary Player to never age.
* * * * *
For all of the social flaws of Augusta National and Jim Nantz’s overly melodramatic, hushed tones — and his overuse of the phrase “A tradition unlike any other” — The Masters never ceases to be about the coolest thing going in golf. It leaves me, as you could guess by now, wanting even more.
But how cool is The Masters, the epitome of golf with its combination of excellence and history, really?
For starters, The Masters is so big it makes announcers change their vocabulary. The Masters doesn’t have fans; it has “patrons.”
There is no other major played on the same course every year. None of the other three majors feature a smaller field or allow every (essentially every) past champion a spot in the field.
There is no tournament in golf with a more notable following than the Masters, primarily because so many names don’t change, the pin placements are almost always the same on each day from year to year and even the bridges have names.
The Masters even has its own set of TV graphics. It has its own theme song. It basically screams at the U.S. Open and British Open (which is almost twice as old) to just try to be cooler.
The Masters is so huge now, so revered and so beloved, it makes a seemingly unattractive prize — a tacky green jacket — the most coveted and subsequently baller item in golf. You get a green jacket and you’re set for life. I want one.
No other course in golf looks quite like Augusta, either.
The flowers, the towering trees, the absurdly well-behaved gallery — excuse me, patrons — the sparkling white bunkers, the incredible greens, Amen Corner … The Masters has everything and then some
But really, I just want to play.
I want to play where you don’t have to pretend the 15-foot putt with 10 feet of break is a must-make at Augusta National, it actually is at Augusta.
I just want a shot.