Read an Excerpt
Golf Shorts and Plus Fours
Musings from a Golfing Traditionalist
By WAYNE T. MORDEN
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Wayne T. Morden
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4697-3140-7
Chapter One
Hole No. 1, Par 5. What is it like to Attend the Masters theatre?
There is green—and then there is Augusta green. Witnessing the unfolding drama of The Masters firsthand has always been a lifelong dream of mine. And I am pretty sure that I speak on behalf of any other passionate golfers; that they too have this as a top priority on their golfing wish list. One only has to mention that he or she attended the Masters, and awestruck individuals will quickly congregate around that person to get the inside story. I never imagined that I would be one of the lucky few to live this dream until an historic meeting with my friend Tom "Chief" Stanton.
He specifically asked me to visit him at his Oakville home so he could discuss something of great importance to me. Once I arrived, I was given orders to plunk my butt down in the leather chair in his den so he could share his news. Such a statement carried an ominous ring to it, especially since Chief also happens to be my doctor. Fortunately his message was quite the opposite of what I'd expected. He simply said that I was going to Augusta. My heart skipped a beat and then I offered silence. Chief's ever-broadening smile told me that this was not a joke. I steepled my hands as though in a peaceful trance, grinning and beaming with unbridled glee.
My good pal was able to procure these tickets through a patient who had contact with a ticket holder. Providentially for us, and perhaps unluckily for this gentleman, he was not able to attend. Chief jumped at the opportunity and merrily asked if he could take them off his hands. My friend was going to treat his three fellow Chewie Open competitors to a wonderful trip to the Masters. The Chewie Open is our annual golfing trip to various destinations and resorts in the United States. This extravaganza involves a 4-or 5-day tournament of intense stroke play involving psychological warfare and some choice sarcastic quips. But at Augusta, we would all individually focus on watching others battle their own unique inner demons and unpredictable weather events.
After confirming that this was no hallucination, I began to think of myself joining the exclusive and tiny club of "patrons" who walked the hallowed grounds of this southern gem. No longer would I have to remain content to watch this major championship solely on television. The tinkling piano music and soothing sounds of Jim Nantz at CBS would be replaced with the silent and actual sightings of Tiger, Phil, and other great PGA players. My "bucket list" item of watching The Masters live would be fulfilled in 2010!
Chief, you may take possession of my first-born if I ever decide to start a family with my wonderful wife Alison. I am forever in your debt. And that year's Masters had the added colour of seeing the return of four-time green jacket winner Tiger Woods who was playing in his first competition after a 5-month self-imposed exile from golf. Ticket valuations had skyrocketed as a result. Would his game be rusty and how would the patrons receive him? I was keenly interested to see how Tiger would cope with this embarrassing situation and if he could continue to hit the beautiful shots of previous Masters.
Whether Tiger liked it or not, he was now a celebrity with a bull's eye stuck on his back. He now resided in the disreputable category and was not merely an enigmatic golfer who could keep things extremely close to his vest. People in general, not only golf junkies, knew far more about his personal life than he'd ever wanted or imagined. Gossipy Entertainment Weekly Hollywood types would have an almost insurmountable task in penetrating this tightly controlled environment in order to gain further sordid details of his affairs. Their fortress-like mentality could successfully resist such intrusive outside interference. No doubt that Mr. Woods understood only too well Augusta National's unique and uncompromising way of doing things. Also, his past successes on the venerable site made it a natural choice for his golf game resurrection and, possibly more important, the resurrection of his brand.
A distinct buzz about his appearance permeated the air as though we were witnessing the return of the prodigal son. Many aficionados of the Masters hoped Tiger's return would not diminish the importance of the tournament itself. Augusta executives would not allow it. He had his press conference on Monday to make his sincere apologies. I personally found Tiger's script to be less than satisfactory. Masters Chairman Billy Payne then took a surprising swing at Tiger during Wednesday's opening speech. This action surprised many people, as this platform is usually subdued and uneventful. Mr. Payne discussed Tiger's egregious behaviour and how he'd let down everyone, including kids and grandkids, with his failure to act as a proper role model. It sounded like a firm but smartly worded lecture from a loving uncle to a nephew, as though he stated: "Please clean up your act and have a positive character change because we all want to see you again as our hero." Golf purists and the other Green Jackets were no doubt nodding their heads in agreement. It was (and still is) very interesting to see the lines of discussion being blurred between a man's private life, including character traits, and his profession, which is the sport of golf. We would see how this would pan out in the near future ...
The Friday I was preparing to fly to Charlotte began inauspiciously. Alison was expecting delivery of our new, luxurious and heavy Montauk couch. Furniture needed to be shifted. Not the light stuff of course, but the unwieldy and bulky kind. First we moved, rather clumsily, the wooden cabinet to the corner of the living room. Next, the daybed's metal understructure had to be meticulously folded and marched into our dilapidated garage. Rats scurried and snakes slithered as we trundled into this hotbed of wild creature activity. Finally, we hoisted the heavy island in our kitchen once, then twice and finally, a third time (doesn't everything work in threes?) to accommodate the movers who shuffled the couch through the kitchen's sliding French doors. On the last move of the island I finally put my enormous foot down with Alison and said, "Hun Bun, this is my absolute last move." After her intense glare subsided and she unfolded her arms, I breathed a monstrous sigh of relief that my back had not given out on me. I could just imagine my lurching, Quasimodo-like movements as I staggered down the steep hill on the 10th hole at Augusta and then back up the incline to reach this Notre Dame Cathedral green.
I arrived in Aiken, South Carolina late Friday night via a convertible Ford Mustang after enjoying a fine filet mignon in downtown Charlotte with two of my friends, Martin "Scugog" Stewart and Andrew "Bags" Merrick. Chief had planned to join us for dinner but we were late in arriving. Luckily we caught him before he hopped into his rental car outside the restaurant to bolt to the airport. A quick and animated 5-minute debrief in his typical booming voice got our juices going about the Masters. He described Augusta as being even more beautiful than anticipated. We placed lanyards with the plastic Masters passes over our necks as though crown jewels were being bestowed upon us for the weekend rounds. "DO NOT LOSE THESE PASSES AT ALL COSTS." There was no grey area around these words of advice.
Scugog had already walked the first two rounds with Chief. But due to diligent research he was able to land a ticket via eBay for Sunday. He would have to deal through a shady outfit working out of a rented house a mile away from Augusta National. This was great news; our friend was attending the final round with us. It floored me that he'd actually acquired the ticket. I was under the impression you could not access Masters tickets so easily, except at a steep extra cost. Masters tickets have always been revered as being extremely difficult to acquire—the Holy Grail of sporting event admissions. Gold, my friends. Here is another case of the power of the Internet and enterprising entrepreneurs coming to the aid of golfing fans!
The Comfort Inn in Aiken, South Carolina was no Taj Mahal but the three of us squeezed into our compact room. Rooms for Masters Week were going for a pretty premium in the surrounding area but we were not too far from Augusta National to make it inconvenient. Scugog drew the short straw to sleep on a cot. The Cotman could have the bad back on my behalf (you may recall that I'd avoided it earlier in the day at home). We are apparently selfish, evil friends, since Martin has had two back surgeries. Flicking on the Golf Channel, we watched some of the highlights of the day to prepare us for the Masters spectacle. Tired, we all flaked out until we heard Bags' irritating watch alarm.
Andrew and I woke up at 6:30am all fired up. My roommates were not impressed with my constant coughing from my lingering cold and the slight sucking-in of drapes from my snoring. A couple of tossed pillows and ample nudges in my direction were not-so-subtle reminders that they too wanted to get a good night's sleep before our big day. Before partaking of a rather pedestrian continental breakfast with plastic utensils in the main reception area, we passed two people reclined on their front seats in their white car just outside our hotel room. That seemed odd enough until we noted the engine was still running (I wonder for how long?). A quick peek inside determined they were not stiffs. I am pretty sure they were not dreaming of the green jacket presentation but simply staying warm during this cool South Carolinian spring.
Off we went for the approximately 30-minute drive that included crossing the Savannah River to Augusta, Georgia. The 200,000-person city resides just inside the state of Georgia next to South Carolina and is the second-largest one in Georgia after Atlanta. For all those sightseeing folks, there is a fine statue of the hometown funk and soul singer "I feeeeeel good!" James Brown.
You can't help but notice the severe contrast between Augusta, the city, and Augusta National, the golf course. Shifty locals wandered Broad Street and pawnshops, strip joints, and other shops of dubious nature dominated the downtown core. I am certain there are some good areas in the city to appreciate but you don't see them on the road to the golf course. We took this scenic route of the city's underbelly then passed several churches before merging on to Washington Road. Many strip malls and gas stations lay along this next stretch and you wonder how this can possibly be the way to the Masters. But lo and behold, what appears to be Augusta National Golf Club suddenly appears as if by magic on the left.
The private course's grounds cannot be seen from the road but visitors can certainly sense its presence. Magnificent Magnolia Lane leads from Washington Road to the clubhouse and is practically hidden from view. Thick bushes act as brawny centurion guards, blocking prying eyes along its entire perimeter. After crossing Eisenhower Drive and then Berckmans Road, we turned left to free Augusta parking. There is a large parcel of land dedicated for parking and Masters personnel obligingly directed us to a spot. Usually parking is a pain in the butt for such major sporting events but not here. Free parking only a block away from the patron entrance—unheard of!
This enticing gesture of free parking symbolized our first exposure to The Masters and the tremendous appreciation for its customers, its patrons. Already you are in Masters mode on your first touch point. This is a fantastic strategy set by this tournament and is very much planned and intentional. Numerous examples of customer appreciation and service would rule throughout our two days. In a sense, we were going back in time to a kinder and gentler world where humans were treated with the utmost respect. The meticulous preparation and outstanding organization of this event remains overwhelming and all-encompassing. Each and every detail regarding better experiences at food areas, faster moving restroom lines, and golf viewing is examined and scrutinized by the Masters decision-makers to make this a first-class affair. By the end of Sunday, the Masters would emphatically show me true southern hospitality and the best-run sports event that you could imagine.
Before reaching security at the gates, individuals pass through turnstiles. Security before entering Augusta's grounds is extremely tight. Patrons have to pass through airport-type screening machines and badges are checked for their authenticity. Don't dream of carting in your electronic gadgets, backpacks or cameras. They will promptly confiscate them and fellow patrons will chuckle at you for not doing your homework. Cajoling or sweet-talking will not do you any good. Homework was something I certainly did before making this historic trip.
The plastic badges are a piece of art and a great keepsake. I examined the top right hand of the badge more closely and noted the surreal "$200.00 NOT FOR RESALE NO REFUND." This brought a huge snicker since those in the know understand that the real value and cost of the ticket is exponentially higher. What I held in my hand was like a mint-condition rookie Mickey Mantle baseball card. The number of your ticket is located in the top left and there is a nice oval-shaped picture of Magnolia Lane and the clubhouse. Masters 2010 April 8th-11th completed the front of the badge.
On the rear of the badge there is a lot of legalese but I want to outline TWO LARGE PARTS THAT ARE CAPITALIZED IN BOLDFACE:
CELL PHONES, BEEPERS, AND OTHER ELECTRONIC DEVICES ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED ON THE GROUNDS AT ALL TIMES. CAMERAS ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED ON TOURNAMENT DAYS. VIOLATION OF THESE POLICIES WILL SUBJECT THE TICKET HOLDER TO REMOVAL FROM THE GROUNDS AND THE TICKET PURCHASER TO THE PERMANENT LOSS OF CREDENTIALS.
FAILURE TO OBSERVE ANY OF THE TERMS OR PROVISIONS HERE OF MAY RESULT IN THE TICKET HOLDER'S REMOVALOR EXCLUSION FROM THE TOURNAMENT AND THE ORIGINAL PURCHASER'S PERMANENT LOSS OF CREDENTIAL(S). THIS AGREEMENT SHALL BE GOVERNED BY GEORGIA LAW.
Is this clear enough? The words "permanent loss" mentioned twice captures your attention. Badges need to be taken out of their transparent plastic holders for presentation to the security people. Next, the ubiquitous green collapsible chairs with the yellow Masters logo are to be removed from their carrying cases. I would not say that the frontline security agents were the most polite of people but it is not an easy task to frisk and check thousands of people as they enter. Other security people at the end of the line were more welcoming in this not overly uncomfortable process. Bags looked kind of shell-shocked after this initiation to the tournament. I steered my shaky friend towards an unforgettable experience. I was elated to get through this preliminary routine so I could be ready for my grand entrance to Augusta!
Now we were in.... Take a moment to breathe in its significance to you as a human, golfer, and fan of the game. The golf Garden of Eden lay before us. I guess the forbidden fruit would be to streak across the ninth fairway yelling to Tiger, "You da Man!" Except biting that apple was certainly not in the cards for me. Permanent banishment from The Masters for the rest of your earthly life is a hu-u-u-ge price to pay. I only had to reread the dire warnings on the back of my badge as a reminder. Chief would have a lot of 'splainin' to do to the wonderful man who had provided us with the tickets. Plus, I think a fracture of a long-lasting friendship that began on my first day at Queen's University in 1983 was too costly for the momentary thrill of indulging in such reprehensible behaviour.
Because we were attending the weekend rounds, tee-off times did not begin until 10:45am. The cut line had reduced the playing field substantially following Friday's round. I liked that we had the opportunity to soak up the ambience of the course and visit some of the storied places before rushing off to see drives and iron shots. Reading books with intriguing storylines of the tournament and researching Masters' history was most helpful in preparing for this day.
Arriving within its confines allows you to finally physically experience the sites that were previously etched only in your imagination. My analysis of the Masters would be threefold: view how immaculate and tricky Augusta is, appreciate how well this tournament is set up in order to cater to the patrons, and finally, size up the Masters as an event and as a brand. Is it really that spectacular?
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Golf Shorts and Plus Fours by WAYNE T. MORDEN Copyright © 2012 by Wayne T. Morden. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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