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AUGUSTA, GEORGIA | The dogwoods are still in bloom and lavender-colored wisteria blossoms still cling to the vine. Young leaves have filled the oaks and there is a springtime softness in the air around Augusta National Golf Club.
There also is green fencing and a series of closed gates around the property that should be alive with the Masters this week. Even the small white sign hanging by the guardhouse at the entrance to Magnolia Lane off Washington Road has been removed.
This is annually the happiest week in golf, not just for the fortunate and the faithful who are on the grounds, but for everyone touched by a golf tournament that feels like so much more. The Masters is celebratory, a pageant and a passion, a shared experience that reaches beyond the 270 acres hidden behind walls of bushes, trees and shrubs.
At perhaps the most exclusive golf club anywhere, the world comes inside for a week that reminds us of the passage of time while giving everyone, whether they’re walking the National’s hills or watching from a couch in a South Dakota den, an opportunity to revel in another golden moment.
It still can be Masters week even if we have to settle for watching highlights ... Nicklaus in ’75, Jack in ’86, Phil leaping into a green jacket in 2004, Tiger last year. They’re as familiar as Christmas carols and, like those songs, everyone has their favorites.
Augusta National is closed this week, even to its members. The Masters is on hold, perhaps to be played this fall or perhaps not until next April by which time the COVID-19 pandemic hopefully will have subsided, having left a permanent and heartbreaking mark.
It became clear a while ago that postponing the Masters wasn’t just the right decision. It was the only decision. Meanwhile, the game’s three other major championships are in purgatory as well.
“It’s so much bigger than golf,” said John Patrick, an Augusta radio personality and golf show host. “It’s not as if the world was in its proper place. We have way more to worry about than if there is a golf tournament.”
While anyone who cares about the Masters will feel its absence this week, there is no sadness in not playing a golf tournament. We’ve all been forced inside, waiting and wondering when it will be safe to come outside again, to have dinner with our friends, to go to a movie, to talk over a couple of beers about the college football season we hope to have this fall.
Most of us look forward to early April the way sweet-toothed children look toward Halloween. It’s here but the Masters isn’t.
That’s OK. This is a collective moment when, despite being kept apart, we’re in this together. This is about doctors and nurses and EMTs, the infected, the dying and the hopeful.
It’s about doing our part, which means staying put and staying safe while the storm rages.
It still can be Masters week even if we have to settle for watching highlights of previous years on televisions or on our computers. All the favorites will be available somewhere – Nicklaus in ’75, Jack in ’86, Phil leaping into a green jacket in 2004, Tiger last year. They’re as familiar as Christmas carols and, like those songs, everyone has their favorites.
Make yourself a pimento cheese sandwich while you watch. If you’re not a fan of that southern delicacy, make your own egg salad sandwich on soft white sandwich bread. A bag of chips and a cold beer and you’re set even if you’re missing the Masters moon pies.
Wear a green shirt on Thursday, or Friday or all week. Take a moment Thursday morning to think about the first tee ceremony and remember the way Arnold Palmer lashed at the ball, even when he was older.
Think about Seve. Freddie’s ball staying on the bank at No. 12. Gary Player shooting 64 on Sunday to win.
Think about Phil Mickleson’s 6-iron between the trees. Ben Crenshaw burying his head in his hands. The enchanting beauty of the golf course.
Think about how much we miss it and how much we’ll appreciate it when it returns.
Think about the people of Augusta, where the annual economic impact of the Masters is estimated at $100 million. Homes are rented. Jobs are created. Charities are supported, including a recent $2 million gift to local foundations from Augusta National.
“Everybody is disappointed but they understand,” said Stan Byrdy, a resident who has written books about the club and golf in the area. “Augusta is such a small town and when you have an event like this, you have the whole world coming here to this small town, I think people were concerned about that side of it too.
“You want to make sure everyone is safe here.”
In any other year, driving down Washington Road toward the club would be part of the experience. The road is cluttered with fast food restaurants, strip malls and tire stores. During tournament days, pedestrian traffic may outnumber the cars, patrons heading out and others are coming out, carrying souvenir bags stuffed with memories.
Late last week, it could have been July on Washington Road. There were no golf traffic signs. No billboards heralding the game’s stars. There was an edge in the pollen-scented air.
The patrons parking lot off Berckmans Road was still just a pretty park, a place where people were enjoying an afternoon walk.
The familiar Hooters parking lot where John Daly parks his RV and signs merchandise sat empty. At TBonz steakhouse, one of the most popular gathering spots during Masters week, the sign outside reads, “Augusta Strong, We Are In This Together.”
Directly across the street from Augusta National, a handful of cars sat scattered in the Whole Life Ministries parking lot. The Honey From The Rock café had a sign saying it is closed during these prayerful times.
From 1943 through 1945, World War II shut down the Masters. Herman Keiser won in 1946 and it’s been played every April since … until now.
Making this a Masters week unlike any other.
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