THE MASTERS IS THE only major championship played at the same golf course every year. The tournament founded by Robert Tyre Jones Jr. has been on the calendar every year since 1934, except for a three-year interruption during World War II. The world’s greatest golfers have competed in Bob Jones’ invitational, and since 1949 they have dreamt of slipping into the Green Jacket.
There’s something to be said for Masters tradition, even with its many odd expressions, styles and hues. Tradition can be an easy target and fun to chide, but in the end most people who call themselves golf fans love Masters tradition.
Why? Why do so many watch this tournament and dream of a golf pilgrimage to Augusta National Golf Club?
For its beauty and pageantry, sure, like the Kentucky Derby, the “Run for the Roses.” But I think it’s mostly because Augusta National is the game’s ultimate echo chamber. No golf course or tournament produces more anticipation, more excitement and more roars than Augusta National and the Masters.
Golf fans know the course. We know where there will be birdies and maybe eagles, and where there can be bogeys or worse. We know each of the final nine holes from years of watching the waning hours and deciding shots of the championship. We know where the pin placements will be on Sunday. We even know how many of the putts will break.
Most of all, we know there will be roars—birdie roars and eagle roars, Saturday roars and Sunday roars. Who will produce the roars on this final day of the Masters? Who will don the Green Jacket?
Today is a day to be thankful for tradition.
−The Armchair Golfer
(Image: gomattolson/Flickr)
