Our plan was to get up at 8 and start the long drive to Augusta for the Masters. Phil's alarm went off as scheduled, but it was raining so incredibly hard and thundering and lightning and we were so sleep deprived, that a noon departure seemed a much better plan.
Eventually, the rain subsided, and we exited the RV into the foot deep standing water to pack up. With a bit of luck, we're able to extract the RV from the slush and onto a gravel road. The rain starts again, but we're on the interstate and heading to Augusta. Exhausted, sleep deprived, but energized and ready for golf.
I-10 to Mobile, then I-65 to Montogomery, followed by I-85 up to Atlanta, then I-20 to Augusta. Through a combination of Snapple energy drinks and a few classic movies playing (Swingers and South Park) we managed another four hours to Augusta.
We found a nice looking parking lot just a minute walk from the famed Magnolia Drive of Augusta National. We parked, put a sign on the door that said we'd pay in the morning, and then slept like babies....
...until 6am when the parking attendant said that we had to move or pay $300 a night. We pleaded our charity case and got them to drop it down to $200, but eventually, we found a place next door that was willing to let us park for $125. We moved. Carl and Roger from WebTickets.com showed up shortly after noon, happy with the spot, so we decided to stay.
Phil's Dad (Mike), godfather (Jack) and godson (Ben) all showed up at the RV at ten. We made plans to meet them at 3pm. We were waiting on Rafe's college dormmate, Jay, who flew out from LA and eventually made it to the RV by about noon. Shortly thereafter, we bought practice tickets from a few people that had had enough for the day.
Augusta National, one of the golfing holy lands, was to be a religious experience for Jay. As we entered the grounds, we could see him soaking it all up - the azaleas, the palpable sense of anticipation, the smell of pine needles, the perfect fairways. "Hey guys, don't be upset, but I've got to walk the grounds by myself," he says. He sets off down the first fairway, and we know that his afternoon will not be a "Good Walk Spoiled" but something he's dreamed of his entire life.
For us, Augusta is less of a religious experience and more a chance to do some gambling. We head down to the sixteenth green, a 170-yard par 3 over water. The golfers are in groups of three, and after their practice tee shot, the crowd near the tee box starts chanting "skip it... skip it... skip it!" Sure enough, the golfers put a ball on the downslope near the water and hit a skulled iron shot, skipping the ball once, twice, three times, and then eventually up onto the green. Or not. About half of the balls made it dry, the other half wet. This seemed like a good wagering opportunity.
Rafe took "dry" on the first group, all three failing. Rafe took "wet" on the second group, all three dry. Phil was quickly cut off from all skipping action for the rest of the tournament. But, we found other ways to bet - closest to the pin, up and down from the rough, longest drive in the fairway. Within the first few hours, Rafe got seriously stuck and was steaming.
We missed our meeting with Phil's dad, having spent 30 minutes in the wrong spot. So, we decided to head to the Par 3 Tournament. Wednesday at the Masters is a special time - all the oldtimers are there competing, hanging out, and the pressure hasn't hit home yet. The annual Par 3 tournament is a crowd pleaser.
We found the classic group of Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer and Gary Player. While they are on the tee box, Davis Love made a hole in one. The crowd went absolutely crazy for a good minute. Palmer said, "sounds like someone just made a hole in one." Jack turned to him, deadpan, and says, "Either that, Arnie, or you just two putted for a par." Very telling moment. Sadly, Palmer was too proud to take out a wood on a par 3 and put two tee shots into the lake before finally finding enough energy to barely make it into the rough short of the green.
Seeing the rain clouds roll in, we head back to the RV for a much needed rest. After a few hour nap, we awake in time to head to Hooters to watch the World Poker Tour show on TV. Last October, Phil was invited to play in a poker tournament for the WPT in Aruba. The two-hour show premiered this night and we didn't want to miss a minute of the action.
So, we show up, claim a few prime tables, and bring out the T-shirts that WPT sent us for Phil to autograph as well as UltimateBet CD's and hats. The show was mesmerizing, with Phil beating out a table full of world champion poker players to capture first in the pro division. Unfortunately, the heads up match between Phil and the winning "amateur" didn't turn out nearly so well, with Phil getting run over by a combination of good cards for his opponent and his own poor play. After signing a few autographs, we finally head back to the RV around midnight.
It poured buckets of rain, all night long. And finally, the complete and utter lack of sleep caught up with us. The alarm went off at ten, but by that time, they had cancelled the first round. That suited us just fine, as Phil slept until 4pm, while Rafe and Jay caught up on some old times and shot some hoops at a local gym.
Our friend from Atlanta, otherwise known as Michelle "Phil's Mom's Spy", showed up at the RV around dinner time. We all went out to Carraba's Italian, a stunning combination of mediocre food and a long wait. Still detoxing from New Orleans, we decided to call it an early night and conserve our energy for what we hoped would be an epic day at Augusta National.
The rainout left all of the ticket brokers in a complete bind. Most of the ticket brokers decided to screw their customers that had paid for Friday's round using the old "act of God" excuse. WebTickets.com, decided to try to get everyone in on Saturday who bought a badge for Friday. That meant that there was a scarcity of badges to go around. We waited patiently for Carl to deliver our badges just after 2pm. We were impressed with his honesty and desire to make all his customers whole.
During this time, we were offered by several other brokers to be "walked in" for $200 per person. Being Masters rookies, we had no idea what that meant. Well, it's like this: Two people go in to the grounds with two badges. You walk deep out onto the course, then give your badge back to the broker who leaves you on your own. If you're caught on the course without a badge, you get kicked out, but otherwise you're all good. Because the badges are good for in/out during the entire tournament, there is no real way for course officials to track who retains a badge, so there is very little chance of getting caught. We were tempted, but decided to wait on WebTickets.com to get our legitimate badge instead.
Once again, inside the course, Jay decides to leave us for a continuation of his religious pilgrimage. Relishing the moment, we battle the crowds and the thick mud to watch the competition. We spent much of the day on Amen Corner, holes 11-13. Hole 11 is a devilish par 4, down hill, 470, green protected by a lake down the left side. Par is a great score. Hole 12 is a par 3, 210 yards over a lake to a shallow green. Par is a good score. Hole 13 is a 510 yard par five that will tempt the long hitter to go for it in two, leading to quite a few balls into the famous Rae's Creek. We saw some excellent shotmaking. Our favorite group to follow was Tiger and amateur Ricky Barnes from the University of Arizona. Barnes tore Tiger up, and by the end of the day and 27 holes, he was only a few shots behind the leader while Tiger was struggling at 4 over par.
Jay woke up early this morning and headed out for a few hours. He used Rafe's badge and saw the end of the second round. Phil headed out to the course around noon, just in time to catch the start of the third round. Tiger, 11 strokes off the lead, just barely made the cut and appeared to be completely out of contention as there were 45 golfers ahead of him.
Phil followed a group for the front nine and then eventually camped out near the 16th green and 17th tee. The pin placement on 16 led to quite a few birdies.
Rafe eventually showed up for a planned meeting at 3pm. We decided to follow Phil Mickelson and Barnes for a bit. Inevitably, the amateur sensation, Barnes, faded back to the pack. Checking the interactive line on his handheld internet device, we were completely astonished to see Mickelson going off at 8-1 against winning, while Darren Clarke, three strokes ahead of Mick, was also 8-1. We decided to take a big position and sell Mickelson short and buy Clarke. If Clarke wins the tournament, we would win big, with the only way to lose was if Mickelson could somehow win. We thought him a complete choke artist incapable of winning, and we put our money down on the line.
Of course, we then had reason to follow Mickelson closely for most of the rest of the afternoon, using our New Orleans voodoo on him on almost every shot. Then, with daylight fading, there were rumors of a huge Tiger comeback. Although he wasn't listed on the leaderboard, we decided to try to watch a few holes. We caught up and were astonished to see him at 6 under for the day, tied with Mickelson, and completely on fire. The crowd was going absolutely crazy.
We caught sight of him on his 17th hole of the day, which was actually hole 8 on the front nine. Hole 8 is a great par five, reachable in two for the long hitter. Unfortunately, Tiger drove the ball into a fairway trap and had to lay up. His third shot came up uncharacteristically short of the green and Tiger had to settle for Par. He then missed a 10 footer for birdie on the 9th hole. Still, he had passed all but 6 golfers and sat in great position for an epic third consecutive Masters win.
After ten miles of walking up an down the course, we get back to the RV spent and in need of some rest. Michelle the Spy, had other ideas. She and her friend, Donna, showed up at the RV just as we were settling in for a pre-dinner nap. Ready to rage, they almost forced us to crack a few beers, get dressed, and head out for dinner and the bar scene.
After a Texas dinner at the Lone Star steakhouse, we found a bar and had a few pitchers of beer. Eventually, we made our way back to the RV around 1am and called it a night, sending Michelle and Donna back to their tent. Actually, we offered them comfortable sleeping arrangements in the RV, but they prudently declined, not wanting to be the subject of a counter-espionage sting operation.
With the leaders teeing off shortly after 12:30, we took our time this morning and hit our now-standard breakfast spot in Augusta, the IHOP, where we ran into Carl and Roger from WebTickets.com.
Inside the gates at Augusta National, the tension of the Masters Final round is palpable. It's a glorious sunny day, and we're wearing our matching Divots USA Shirts as a nod to Tiger's traditional Sunday Red. We head down the first fairway as Tiger takes the tee. In a poignant moment we found ourselves under the shade of a magnolia watching Tiger's tee shot over the shoulder of Tiger's Mom, girlfriend, brother, and agent. We pause to reflect on the moment and give each other a huge child-like high five.
Tiger makes a great par save, and we move to the second hole where he misses a 10 foot eagle putt but taps in for birdie. It looks like Tiger is here to play. We hurry to the third, intent on seeing every single shot of this epic, memorable comeback. He tees off with an iron on the 350 yard third, but puts in WAY right into the trees. A pitch out, skulled third shot over the green, then a chilly dip fourth and then two putts kills his chances for the tournament and squashes all his momentum. We follow for a few more holes hoping for a miracle, but by the seventh, it's clear that he's done. We go straight to the eleventh and get a good grandstand seat in order to watch the best groups come through.
We're pulling for nearly everyone in the field except Mickelson. Lefty is making a good show of it, but it's clear that Weir and Mattiace are the players of the day. We watch both groups come through, then head for the 16th tee box in time to see them finish. Both make great birdies, and we wonder about the pressure that Weir must be feeling as he tees it up on the 170 yard 16th. The Sunday pin placement, in the back left corner of the green, is treacherous. Yet, he walks up, and smacks it 8 feet from the flag, gets the putt to drop, and is one stroke back going into 17. A great par, while Mattiace makes bogey on the 18th, leaves them tied. We hustle up to get a view, and when it's clear that there is going to be a playoff we rush down the 10th fairway to get a good view of the action.
Phil is rooting for Weir, in honor of his friend, Barb, in Vancouver; Rafe rooting for Mattiace. But, we're so caught up in the action that we don't bother to bet. Both tee shots are right down the middle, and deep. Mattiace hits first and pulls his shot badly, ending below the hole in a grove of trees. Weir puts his ball in the middle of the green. A few minutes later, it's all over. Mike Weir is the first Canadian to win a major golf tournamet.
We head up with the rest of the crowd to get a glimpse of the Green Jacket ceremony. Beleaguered Hootie Johnson, the Chairman of Augusta National, presents the trophy, and Tiger helps Mike with the Jacket. A chorus of "Oh Canada" breaks out, and the crowd gives Mike a tremendous roar of appreciation. And we, too, join in on the applause. It has been a memorable and fantastic Masters week.
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