This was Masters week. I watched it intently. I love golf. I even love watching golf. And I love watching the Masters most of all. The thing is, based on every principle I hold dear, I should hate it.
The network advertises its Masters telecast as “A Tradition Like No Other.” I tend to agree.
There are few, if any, events that more vividly carry with them all of the racist, misogynistic, nationalistic urges in the American character than does this golf tournament. Just think about the name of the thing– The “Masters”. And yet, I love it.
The Masters was originated by a duo of known bigots – Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts. The two of them presided over their treasured tournament for decades – their all-white tournament at their all-white club. Roberts is famously quoted as having said, “As long as I’m alive, all the golfers will be white and all the caddies will be black.” The first black golfer to be allowed to play in the Masters was Lee Elder in 1975. Maybe by coincidence maybe not, Clifford Roberts killed himself two years later. God knows what he would have thought about Tiger Woods. That’s the Masters. And yet, I love it.
And the masters of the Masters even assert tight control over the language that must be used in describing the action. The longer grass on the side of the fairways must be called, “the first cut” for the shorter stuff and “the second cut” for the longer stuff. The word, “rough” is too plebian for Masters’ sensibilities. People on the course who are watching the golf are “patrons.” They are never to be called, “the crowd” – how gauche! Television announcers who have violated these and other rules have been prevented from returning. And yet, I love it.
So, why do I love it? Because despite all that surrounds it, I love the game itself and the game is never played as well as it is played at Augusta National Golf Club. The course is perfect. The terrain is magnificent to look at, the gorgeous azaleas fully in bloom. They actually have a reserve of those azaleas and between rounds, overnight, they replace any plants that have faded with new freshly glowing ones. And the course is ideally designed to play on. It combines and challenges every skill that a golfer is supposed to have. Nothing is easy, but nothing is unfairly hard. Anything can happen on any hole, even on any shot.
I’m reminded of a line from the classic film, Dr. Strangelove. While describing how he was tortured by the Japanese during World War II, Peter Sellers, as Group Captain Mandrake, says of his torturers, “And they make such bloody good cameras.”
Damn those Masters bigots, they make such bloody good tournaments.
We were right 