It is almost here, the days counting down like the week before Christmas, anticipation building and conjecture coming to a boil.
Like no other event in golf and precious few events anywhere, the Masters provokes a soul stirring among the faithful, the hopeful and the romantic.
No one says that about the U.S. Open with its bear trap setup and credo that no mistake shall go unpunished. The Open Championship comes closest to conjuring up the spirits and touching the senses the way the Masters does but it comes at the end of major championship season rather than at the start, its gorse like razor wire compared to the softness of Augusta’s flowering dogwoods.
The Masters, because of when it is played and where it is played, stands apart and may now be more important than ever.
The major championships have always resided on a higher pedestal and, given the game’s ruptured landscape, they represent even more these days because they are a welcome crossroads.
It feels as if the Masters is now the first among equals.
The Masters occupies a unique place in the hearts and minds of everyone attached to it because it returns to the same charmed place year after year, and the game’s attention turns to Augusta shortly after the holiday decorations come down.
There is an emotional tug leading to that chilly Thursday morning moment when Jack Nicklaus, Gary Player and Tom Watson swat their old-man tee shots toward the distant hillside and the game is on.
Inject truth serum into players and the majority would likely say the Masters is the tournament they would most like to win, seeing themselves hanging around under the big tree behind the clubhouse in years to come, casually wearing a green jacket and reliving their former glories, all while sipping an azalea as they admire the blooming variety nearby.
Many years ago, the legendary golf writer Charles Price wrote, “More words are probably spoken – and certainly written – about the Masters each year before the event takes place and after it happens, than are spoken and written about other tournaments while they are going on.”
Only the Ryder Cup, which will be played this September as figuratively far away from Augusta National as possible at beastly Bethpage Black, comes close.
The Ryder Cup is about taking sides and cheering misses. The Masters is about taking it all in, whether from your couch in front of a big screen or walking the hills at Augusta National, and being reminded what doing it the right way still means.
If you have never attended the Masters, chances are you are still fluent in all things Augusta. The inexpensive concessions, the wind at the par-3 12th, the hills (which never fail to surprise first-time visitors), the Southern-style white clubhouse and the various legends from Gene Sarazen’s albatross to Jack Nicklaus’s back-nine run in 1986 to Tiger Woods’ bookend family hugs behind the 18th green in 1997 and 2019.
The Rory McIlroy saga will run like the Mississippi River through the heart of every Masters until he eventually wins a green jacket – or doesn’t.
Those who have been on the grounds for the Masters won’t forget the subtle taste of pollen on their lips, the sound of cheers from down the hill, the orange blossoms of wild azaleas blooming alongside a paved pathway, waiting to see what number goes into the blank space that opened on the hand-operated scoreboard and the happy fatigue that comes near the end of a day at Augusta National.
This year is feathered with possibilities. Scottie Scheffler has won two of the last three Masters and given his unwavering excellence it is difficult to find a more likely champion.
Jon Rahm, Bryson DeChambeau, Brooks Koepka, Patrick Reed and Joaquin Niemann may ply their trade with LIV Golf but they remain formidable characters in the soon-to-unfold story. During Masters week, it’s about the players, not about allegiances.
Who will be this year’s unexpected contender? Akshay Bhatia? Max Greyserman? J.T. Poston?
What about Xander Schauffele? Can Fred Couples make another cut? Does Dustin Johnson still have it in him?
There will be reminders of the devastation from Hurricane Helene last fall. Homes were destroyed. Lives were torn apart. Scars and debris remain.
Augusta National has fewer trees now. It will be as spellbindingly beautiful as ever but with subtle changes created by the storm.
It all comes together next week and not a moment too soon.
E-MAIL RON
Top: The Masters is arriving none too soon.
SHANNA LOCKWOOD, COURTESY AUGUSTA NATIONAL