Has it really been only a year? It seems like forever ago when we convened for a Masters Tournament truly unlike any other. Dustin Johnson’s record-shattering victory already feels sepia-toned as the world still deals with a pandemic that continues to disrupt the rhythm of time.
Perhaps it should feel this way, this disorienting. The “November Masters” will always feel a little out of place in golf’s historic register – like some kind of collective fever dream that we aren’t quite certain was real. A major championship unicorn. Did DJ really shoot 20 under? Did he actually cry? Was that really Tiger Woods draping a green jacket on the champion’s shoulders on an empty putting green in the middle of a bright Sunday afternoon?
Did College GameDay really broadcast a football preview show from the Par 3 Course? That had to be a dream, right?
For those few among us who were actually there, it still seems more surreal than real. Surely we weren’t really standing directly behind the Sarazen Bridge seeing long-iron approaches raining down on the par-5 15th green with a sickening “SPLAT!” that left golf balls embedded deep below the bentgrass surface. That would never happen at Augusta National. In the Masters.
But it all really did happen – Nov. 12-15, 2020, in that famous cathedral in the pines off Washington Road in Augusta, Georgia. The images of that weird week will be seared in our minds much like Tiger’s emotional comeback win 19 months before or his paradigm-altering first major win in 1997 or Jack Nicklaus’ old-man triumph in 1986.
The November Masters was simply unforgettable in ways that are still hard to describe.
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