If, as the late Tom Petty wrote, the waiting is the hardest part, we are through that period and Masters week has finally arrived.
It arrives without a dominant theme – Rory McIlroy took care of that with his turbulent and transformational victory a year ago – but with an abundance of story threads, all set against Augusta National’s magnificent backdrop.
The Masters is the most enchanting event in golf because of its setting, its history and the emotion it generates, tapping into feelings more than any other tournament.
It’s personal, whether you’ve been there to walk the hills and marvel at the beauty or it’s an April tradition to spend your days watching from afar, building your own buffet that may or may not include egg salad sandwiches.
Everyone who cares about the Masters has their own story tying them in some way to Augusta National, whether it was the enduring joy of seeing Jack Nicklaus turn back time in 1986, finding the spot in the trees right of the 10th fairway where Bubba Watson hit his famous recovery shot to win in 2012 or the green golf towel that still hangs from your bag.
It would be better if Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson were returning to play this year but both have more pressing matters to attend to, leaving the focus squarely on whether Scottie Scheffler has found the fine edge in his game, how McIlroy begins the next phase of his Masters life and who might be the weekend contender we never saw coming.
For all that so many of us hold dear when it comes to the Masters, much of the magic is hiding in plain sight.
There are matters of state to be discussed – the status of the ball rollback, who might be the next American Ryder Cup captain now that Woods is out of the picture (Steve Stricker and Justin Leonard are trending) and how the restructuring of the PGA Tour is progressing – but it is always about the golf.
The men and the moments are catalogued in golf’s collective soul. Woods’ good-to-the-last-drop chip-in at No. 16 in 2005. Ben Crenshaw holding his head in his hands upon winning in 1995, days after his mentor Harvey Penick passed away. The Larry Mize shot.
Before those, Arnold Palmer kicked away a green jacket with a double bogey on the 72nd hole in 1961. The aggressive heartbreak of amateur Billy Joe Patton in 1954. Ed Sneed bogeying the last three holes then losing in a playoff in 1979.
The Masters comes with built-in passion and it’s a place where even a slow walk across a small bridge like the one at the 12th hole is about more than the steps someone takes.
There are no hospitality chalets crowding greens, just bleachers. Nice bleachers, with chair backs, but no sun cover and no wristbands required like in the ubiquitous hospitality chalets that frame so many greens at PGA Tour events, offering free drinks and chicken fingers on someone else’s dime.
Manners matter. There is a reminder printed on the daily pairing sheets that running is not allowed at Augusta National and it is enforced. It’s OK to fast walk if you’re trying to follow McIlroy or Tommy Fleetwood but sprinting is akin to belching at the dinner table.
It’s OK to get loud at the appropriate times – the Masters is famous for its roars – but never obnoxious. Proving there is something to the idea of addition by subtraction, no one misses “mashed potatoes” guy and there are no noisy bands of golf bros chugging beers and betting too loudly.
There is no signage. Rae’s Creek is not sponsored by GoDaddy.com. There are no cars floating in the pond beside the 16th green. The white leaderboards don’t advertise credit cards.
Even in the concession stands, brand names disappear.
Want a soft drink? Your choices are cola, diet cola, lemon-lime and a blue concoction called sport drink. And Augusta, being as Southern as good biscuits, offers iced tea.
Craving a cold beer? There are unnamed domestic and import options available and, in a subtle flex, Crow’s Nest beer, the tournament’s signature brew. Think Blue Moon (keep it to yourself, of course) with a little twist.
The no-cell-phone policy is as brilliant as Amen Corner on Sunday afternoon. People look around, not down. They talk rather than text. No one videos the golf in front of them and no one leaves unhappy.
Inside-the-ropes access hardly exists. Everyone stays outside the ropes, even photographers who get access to a few spots but do most of their work among the patrons.
The magic is in the simplicity.
Zoom calls can wait. There are no selfies to send. There is a teasing moment of anticipation when the scoreboard operators open a slot on the big wooden boards to add a new name or to post what the leader made on the fifth hole.
That’s Augusta National’s way of delivering notifications and, if someone has a true emergency, a message gets put on the boards around the course.
There is magic behind the scenes, of course, but there is a touch of Oz about what happens at the Masters.
And we’re off to see the wizard again.
Top: The crowd roars - an acceptable sound at Augusta National - as Rory McIlroy wins the 2025 Masters.
Ben Jared, PGA TOUR via Getty Images