Sunday Morning Coffee — April 13, 2025 —The Masters (Redux)

On our favorite Sunday of the year, Masters Sunday, this is a re-print of the SMC we did eleven years ago —April 6, 2014– about our visit two days earlier to the hallowed grounds of Augusta, Ga.

If you’re a golf fan, or sports fan, or just want a taste of Americana, this out-of-the-way burgh in East Georgia needs to be on your to-do list. It took me almost 62 years to finally get here. It rivals Wimbledon, as a mecca of sports played on grass, and a must-visit even if golf isn’t in your sweet spot. And now that Colorado just became the first state to legalize the sale of cannabis, that too will become a mecca of sports played on grass but that’s another story for another Sunday.

The grounds are so pristine it prompted a bloke on Friday evening to go down on one knee and propose to his now fiancé. It was a not-so-transparent, and probably successful attempt, to make golf and his participation in it paramount to their life together. Here’s you’re not a fan or spectator — you are something called a ‘patron’—and treated with due respect and courtesy by not only the thousands of others in that category but the officials as well. The best in the world at their trade are up close and personal. They walk around and through you no matter what price you paid to gain admission or your socio-economic status.

It’s quiet and calm but has a pulse of nervous energy running throughout. At any given moment an uproar can be heard half a mile away that rumbles through the entire tract of precious real estate. A course supervisor might walk up to you and ask if you “wouldn’t mind putting your cups and purses behind your chair because we are about to go on television.”

Concession prices make you feel guilty by not spending enough. Renowned pimento cheese, a southern delicacy, and egg salad sandwiches are $1.50; a chicken sandwich is a wallet busting $3.00. Water is a buck, soda $1.50, beer $3.00 and if you really want to step up big time you can have an imported beer for $4.00. I bought three sandwiches and a pop for $7.50. It almost begs for you to go back and buy more. However, they get it all back in the merchandise shops.

The place is operated as a congenial police state. Just don’t break a rule, or more importantly a tradition, and you’ll get along splendidly.

The gates open at 7 AM but by 6 on this Friday morning, the queue looked like trying to buy gas during the Carter administration. There are many rules but the main two — and a violation of either— throws you into the golf course clink. That’s a sanction worse than dumping your third shot into Rae’s Creek. First, no cell phones or cameras are permitted. Don’t even think about it. Leave them in the car, parking is free, or in your hotel room. You’ll have the shakes for about an hour but life does go on. Happily, I’ll admit. The second is once access to the golf course is permitted there is no running to claim your locale for the day. Violate this and you are doing hard time. People who claim disabilities and find the need to pre-board a Southwest flight all of a sudden become power walkers to plant their course approved golf chairs at their hole of choice. If you don’t bring a course chair you can buy one for $25. And once you put those chairs on your chosen spot, it’s yours for the day. You can roam the grounds for hours and come back and your chair is untouched. Try to move someone out of the way and it’s the clink. Andi and I walked briskly to the par-3 sixth hole and plopped our chairs up front right next to the green. It took about an hour for the first group to come through. We watched everyone in the Tiger-less field and then wandered around the rest of the course. A lovely way to spend our initial foray.

Of course it’s Augusta National Golf Club and the Masters and what a pleasant surprise it was for me. It’s 130 miles east of Atlanta, five hours from our Birmingham home and a pain-in-the-ass from anywhere else. I was convinced after waiting all these years it would be a one and done; been there, done that, no need to ever go back. As every day passes and I move along on the back nine of life, I’ve gotten adverse to so many things: crowds, traffic, waiting in lines, fighting for a parking spot, another trip to the restroom and bibb lettuce. I figured Augusta would accent much of that.

I was wrong. I’d go back in a minute to try and take in as much as I missed this time. Augusta is a Management 101 seminar in running a business efficiently and successfully. This place is not only impressive but clearly not an accident. Of course, it’s the only major golf championship that’s played in the same venue every year. The consistency only adds to the lore, tradition and mystic.

However, take a double bogey whether or not you’re a golf fan (oops patron) and don’t get a chance to visit Augusta National for the Masters.

Put it on your list and don’t worry about bringing a lot of money for lunch.