A Tradition Unlike Any Other
It's really true, I must say, and you know why? Because for some reason, unlike the Super Bowl or the World Series or the Final Four or the Wimbledon final, The Masters rarely disappoints. I admit that I am the most dilettantish golf fan around - now that I don't write about the sport anymore I basically only watch the Masters and the British Open. That said, there's more than a few Sundays at Augusta that rank with my all-time most exciting sports viewing experiences ever:
- Jack in '86, of course, not the first Masters' Sunday I ever watched, but the first one that gave me that Masters' feeling... also the first time that I can remember witnessing an athlete having the equivalent of a nervous breakdown on television. And as we all know, that wasn't the last time we'd be seeing the Shark blow his cool in a big moment.
- Faldo/Hoch playoff in '89. Hoch chokes on a gimme and Faldo holes a 25-footer for the win on Amen Corner's trickiest green. The putter tossed into the air. Amen.
- And speaking of ole Nick Faldo, how about '96? It wasn't exactly great golf, but it was gripping theater, watching a human being actually disintegrate before your eyes. If you don't know what I'm talking about, this is the year that Greg Norman sealed his legacy for all time as the king of all choke artists, blowing a six-stroke lead in the final round at Augusta to Faldo, who won his third green jacket. I imagine that the Shark still thinks about that day first thing every morning, and last thing every night.
- 1997. A young prodigy of color. Twelve strokes clear of the field. The sport changes forever. Enough said.
1998 - not a Masters that people go on about a lot these days, but one that nevertheless blew my mind. With Fred Couples, David Duval and a 58-year old ghost by the name of Jack Nicklaus all breathing down his neck, Mark O'Meara birdies 17 and 18 to finally shed that ignominious claim to the Best Player Never to Have Won a Major throne.
And speaking of Phil Mickelson... seriously, though, the 2004 Masters was my all-time favorite, hands down. The drama of Lefty chasing that first major, trying to get the BPNTHWM monkey off his back, and doing it on Sunday in typical Mickelsonian fashion - he's up, he's down, he's in the woods, he drives the green, he makes an eighteen-footer, pulls a four-footer - and the whole time wearing that possessed beatific smile on his face as if he just knew that this was his time. And then it all culminates with a twenty-foot birdie putt on the 72nd green for the win and one of the great thunderous white man's leaps in history.
In conclusion, it is my suspicion that among the No Masian faithful out there, golf is not a high priority. But I'm telling you people, if you happen to be one of the uninitiated, watch the Masters already. It's a rite of spring, and something great is bound to happen.
5 Comments:
the shark probably thinks of it in the morning, then walks out onto the deck of his boat and laughs at the idea that he's the richest choker that ever lived. Have you seen that thing? it's ENORMOUS. Pity he's such an asshole.
Yeah you're right. He probably thinks of it, and then goes and takes his morning dump and wipes his ass with a thousand dollar bill. At which point, he's no longer thinking about it.
Shit was intense though. Kind of like Jana Novotna at Wimbledon, only, like, this was a dude.
Love the masters. Really enjoy watching sunday at the masters while napping on the couch and waking up when something awesome happens.
Golf is my secret sport love. My dad not only watched all the tournaments when I was growing up, he taped them and watched them over and over again.
He always claimed that golf and surfing were most akin to each other, and the truest measure of man's ability to best his own inner fragility.
Damn Zark, tell your pops I might have to use that line as my very own, and I mean such larceny as the sincerest form of flattery.
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