With the Masters coming up next week, there are so many memories and reflections to remind us of what this great state has to offer the world.
There’s Stone Mountain, the Okefenokee Swamp, Coca-Cola, Vidalia onions, Georgia peaches, fruitcake, Ty Cobb, Georgia football under Kirby Smart, “Gone With the Wind,” unparalleled quail hunting, and the Masters golf tournament.
There is more, of course, but the previously noted highlights bring much national and international attention and recognition to the Empire State of the South. Hallelujah and thumbs up.
In my view, no sporting event is equal to the Masters. The setting, history, class, and aura of the Masters stand alone. Wimbledon is close, and also the Kentucky Derby, but to me, the Masters is in a class by itself.
This will be my 65th time at The Masters, and I consider it a highlight of my year to walk the grounds of the Augusta National Golf Club, although there have been times that pollen has wreaked havoc with my sinuses. That I could do without.
My first time came about in 1960 during my senior year at the University of Georgia when my good friend Carey Williams, whose family owned The Greensboro Herald-Journal, invited me to see the final round when Arnold Palmer birdied the last two holes to defeat Ken Venturi and win his second Green Jacket by a stroke.
The tournament press committee was very generous in those days by offering two complimentary season badges to weekly papers across the state. I was the beneficiary of that special perk that went to Carey’s family. The following year, I discovered that I could cover the championship since I was the sports editor of a daily newspaper, The Athens Banner-Herald. I was issued a working press credential, parking, and two complimentary season badges, which went to my old high school football coach, who had moved to Evans, Georgia. That covered the cost of a room for the week.
I ate all meals except for supper at the old Quonset hut that housed the press representatives. “Media” had not entered the lexicon at that time. Working press stiffs could enjoy a drink of whiskey, courtesy of the club, or beer. For a college kid with no allowance, that was like manna from heaven.
The accident of geography allowed an eager Georgia boy to enjoy the ultimate in sports competition, owing to a press card and easy access to one of the genuinely great championships in sports.
Everything about Augusta gets high marks. There, you will find the most becoming and beautiful landscaping and any sporting event. The grounds of the tournament are pristine and kempt — the life expectancy of a spent cigarette is less than three minutes. Nature calls out to your senses. The fragrance is sensational, the color is magnificent, and the air’s freshness is world-class.
Ole timers and seasoned Masters aficionados may see the scars left behind by hurricane Helene, but most fans will not see much change. With the priority that Augusta National gives to the beauty and condition of the course, it will seem insignificant to most of the patrons who would give their right arm for a day at the Masters.
The long-range weather forecast for this year’s tournament is favorable. Still, it is April, and with the turbulent weather patterns of late — and following the aftermath of Helene — nobody is waxing optimistically.
Masters traditions historically have been for pleasant weather and a dramatic finish on Sunday.
Let’s hope for another encore.