How the Masters/Augusta touch the soul
Moving stories of a place that creates memories unlike any other
Pat Rogers with his daughters Ellen (left) and Claire. (Courtesy Claire Rogers/Golf.com)
The Masters has long been more than just players winning a major championship, a green jacket and a bunch of crystal. For those who attend, it can be the culmination of a dream, a lifetime quest, a time to share with friends and family and strangers.
For many, walking inside the gates at Augusta National can be an out-of-body experience. Not to get too sappy, but it can be extremely meaningful for those who might only get one crack at the place as players or patrons.
Each year, there are patrons who come to the Masters for the first time. Whether it be through the lottery for a practice round or single tournament day or perhaps a friend or associate came up with that rare badge and invited them. It becomes the type of event that people plan their lives around.
Lucky patrons pouring into Augusta National for a practice round. (Logan Whitton/ANGC)
And so it was for Claire Rogers, a writer for Golf.com, who months ago shared via her social media account that her father had secured coveted one-day tickets to the 2024 Masters. The idea that he had two tickets and two daughters led to some good-natured family drama.
But in the end, Claire was credentialed for Golf.com and so her older sister and father used the tickets. Her editors wisely let Claire spend the day on the course with them, and her beautiful personal essay from that sun-splashed day is the kind of story that warms the heart. And that’s why we are sharing that link here (click the yellow hyperlink above).
Getting to play the course is an even rarer treat. Unless you are tight with a club member or have some sort of business chops, the idea of getting invited to play Augusta National seems pretty remote. Volunteers, vendors, a few local media, club employees and caddies get to play the course on designated days the week before the club closes for the summer in May, but most people will never get the chance.
But us ink-stained wretches who cover the tournament have an avenue, and it’s an incredibly generous one that the club offers: a media lottery for Monday golf the day after the Masters. Some of us have been fortunate enough to take part in this experience, and years ago, former Masters chairman Billy Payne enhanced the opportunity even more.
Those who are chosen now get to drive down Magnolia Lane, change in the Champions’ Lockerroom, hit balls to warm up on the tournament practice range and use an Augusta National caddie. They even get to shop in the members’ pro shop at the conclusion of the round. It’s a truly amazing experience for the 20 lucky lottery winners. This year, Brendan Porath of The Fried Egg captured very nicely the emotions of getting chosen. Many years ago in 1999, Scott Michaux had his own experience to remember on Masters Monday.
Patrons celebrate Scottie Scheffler’s second winning moment at Augusta. (Simon Bruty/ANGC)
There really may be no other sporting event in the world that moves people as emotionally as the Masters. Patrons. Players. Press. Past champions. People watching in homes all over the world. There’s just something about the place and the mystique and the way it’s presented that just gets inside those who care about golf.
This story originally published in The Augusta Chronicle and was somehow lost into the ether after a website redesign. But it fits the theme of how the Masters moves people in mysterious ways.
Masters moves many to tears
By Scott Michaux
The image has been hard to shake.
It was getting dark, and the 2006 Masters Tournament had been over for maybe 30 minutes.
Tiger Woods was preparing to slip a second green jacket onto Phil Mickelson’s shoulders on one side of the stately antebellum plantation clubhouse. The other side was as quiet as the dark side of the moon.
I was on the dark side, staking out a potential quick getaway by a disappointed Fred Couples. There was only one other person in sight.
He was middle-age and clearly a patron. He wore the requisite Bermuda shorts and logoed shirt of a golf fan. In one hand was a merchandise bag. In the other was the familiar green drink cup. He was staring at the Founder’s Circle and the famous Magnolia Lane that stretched beyond.
And he was sobbing. Deep, heaving sobs.
Unsure of the etiquette protocol, I slowly sidled up to the man — close enough to tentatively reach out and touch his shoulder. Only the most obvious question came to mind.
“Are you all right?”
He couldn’t speak. He only nodded his head and continued weeping.
I gave him back his space and resumed my stakeout before finding out that Couples had been whisked to the interview room. I left the man alone with his emotions.
I’ll never know what it was that moved him so dramatically. The list of possibilities seems endless.
Was this a lifelong pilgrimage he had been dreaming of for years and finally realized?
Did he have a terminal illness and know he’d never be back again?
Was it the first Masters he'd been to without a loved one?
Had he lost the mortgage wagering on Couples?
Who knows?
The point is, there is something about Augusta National and the Masters that moves people in profound ways. It’s unique among sporting events in that way.
We’ve all heard countless stories of appreciative patrons whose lives were made complete with just one visit to the tournament. A few years ago, we listened to crestfallen pilgrims who traveled from all over the world to find the Holy Grail of golf tournaments, only to be stranded outside the gates when foul weather caused the course to be closed and no rain checks could be had.
There was a famous story not long ago about a man who had spent years on the waiting list for a tournament badge and who finally had his number called. With his tickets in hand, he traveled to Augusta and was walking across Washington Road to the entrance when he got hit by a car and killed.
There is no consolation in that tale other than to believe that man was filled with joy and anticipation when the end struck him without warning.
Those of us lucky enough to get inside the gates every year too often take it for granted. Those lucky enough to share the experience with someone who has never had the chance understand the satisfaction of giving a gift with a value that can't be quantified.
The pro from Ian Woosnam’s home course in Wales shared the story of his lone visit to the Masters: Andy Griffiths and his wife were invited as Woosnam’s guests and spent the week with the former Masters champion. They stood under the famous oak tree behind the clubhouse and soaked in the atmosphere. Couples went over and chatted with Griffiths and his beautiful wife, something that, by her own admission, made her Masters fantasy complete.
“It was perfect,” Griffiths said of the whole experience. “I don’t even want to go again. I don’t think it can get any better than that.”
Augusta National moves people like no other arena in sports. Only the Old Course at St. Andrews outrivals it for history, but nothing rivals it for beauty and exclusivity.
“Now people just want to go there to breathe the air,” said Ed Bailey, the Augusta doctor who attended every Masters from 1934 to 2009 before his death in 2010.
Those breaths at the Masters bring out emotion in more than just the players. They bring out pleasure. They bring out regret.
My own involves my mother. I had learned to play the game with her and learned to love the Masters with her. We had both longed to walk the grounds at Augusta National but never expected the chance.
When I first got the opportunity to report on the Masters in 1997, she was thrilled. She vicariously experienced it through me. I waited for the day when I might get the chance to get a ticket for her, but when the chance finally came, my mother couldn’t.
It is among the greatest regrets of my life that I couldn’t make that happen before she died. And it makes me understand why a grown man might be moved to tears staring down Magnolia Lane.