Fifty-seven years of Masters cheers and tears

AUGUSTA, Ga. — A tradition unlike any other. Jim Nantz’s brief phrase about the annual first major golf championship has been parodied and mocked, but it lives on. For good reason.

Indeed there is nothing quite like the Masters, which has become a rite as much as a festival of spring, as an event, a competition which has elevated what once was a small southern city to a place of prominence in the world of sport.  

The name is pretentious and became an embarrassment to the great champion, Robert Tyre Jones, who helped create it as the Augusta Invitational.

But if the designation has changed, the location remains the same. Augusta National Golf Club.

It’s where at the second Masters, 1935, Gene Sarazen knocked his second shot into the cup on the par-5 15th, a double eagle — or if you prefer, albatross provided a bit of excitement languishing through the Great  Depression. It’s where Tiger Woods not only won the tournament but because of his ethnic background and jubilant success grabbed our attention for years.

Who knows now what man that will end up the winner in 2024. Maybe it will be Jon Rahm, who could become the first back-to-back winner since Tiger in 2001-2002. Maybe it will be Scottie Scheffer, who has a Masters of his own and currently tops the golf rankings.

True, a veteran experience in the mysteries of Augusta’s greens, invariably wins. But not always. Fuzzy Zoeller won his first Masters — only the second golfer to have done that.

This will be the 88th Masters. This will be my 57th Masters. I had made 54 straight until Covid stopped the streak. Yeah, I’ve eaten a lifetime supply of (ugh) pimento cheese sandwiches and purchased a ton of shirts with the Masters logo on the left front and a large number of Masters hats with the year embroidered on it. 

My first Masters, when I was a writer for the San Francisco Chronicle, was 1967. The winner was Gay Brewer. Yes, I believed San Francisco’s Johnny Miller was going to win a couple of times — he was ahead at the 15th hole one year and said “I kept thinking how proud my Dad would be to see me in a Green Coat” — but he never could do it.

The memories include Roberto Divincenzo signing the incorrect score in 1968 that cost him a tie for first — “I am stupid,” the Argentinian sadly kept repeating — and of course, Greg Norman blowing the six-shot lead in 1996. There were cheers for so many. There were tears from Arnold Palmer after his last round and Ben Crenshaw after his second Masters victory, days after the death of his longtime tutor.

Hey, a tradition unlike any other and a fantastic run of golf.