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My Day At The Masters
For as long as I can remember growing up, Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday meant that golf was on our TV. I never appreciated golf to the degree that my father did- I had always preferred running. However, when I found out that one of the perks of winning Emory’s Bobby Jones scholarship was a Saturday ticket to the Masters, I couldn’t help but get excited. Apparently some of what my dad had tried to teach me had stuck.
Walking onto Augusta National, I was overwhelmed by the amount of green that surrounded me, as well as the sense of tradition and prestige that radiated from behind the wooden scoreboards and from underneath the ever-present azaleas. I couldn’t even get upset that my golf crush, Adam Scott, had missed the cut. With a listing of the pairings in hand, my fellow scholars and I began following the course, noting that Camillo Villegas is significantly smaller than he appears on television and that he looks like Spiderman when he gets down to read the greens.
One of the highlights was getting lunch. I had one of each of the classic Masters sandwiches: egg salad and pimento cheese, both on white bread and only $1.50 each. We ate on the 6th hole, a par 3 with an elevated tee, such that patrons can sit right in the middle of the hole, on the hill before the fairway. We watched as the wooden signs continually changed, showing who was about to tee off. Eventually, the name we all had been waiting for appeared: Woods. I looked up the hill and there he was, the most dominant player in golf today. I watched as he hit his shot directly over my head, and then as he hit the ground with his club after his ball rolled off the green. The thing that amazed me most occurred immediately after, when Tiger walked down the hill towards the green. Slowly, everyone sitting around us began to stand, offering the respect to him one might show a leader of a nation. Even though he had a bad day, it was clear then and throughout the day as the crowd followed Tiger that he is king of the golf world.
Overall, the day was amazing. I got to see Phil Mickelson, who I had grown up watching and rooting for, as well as new faces, such as Irish phenom Rory McIlroy. I got to sit at Amen Corner and watch the 11th, 12th and 13th holes all at once and bask in the fact that I was the object of envy of my dad’s entire golf league. I even strategically placed myself behind Tiger during his ESPN interview and may or may not have ended up on TV. Also, for the first time, I watched golf on my own accord on Sunday, rooting on Kenny Perry over Angel Cabrera like the good American I am.
Ultimately, going the Masters bolstered the respect for golf that my dad has tried to impart on me for years. Standing next to a tee and having a drive whiz past your face down the fairway just doesn’t translate to the TV. I look forward to the future when once a year I can sit my children down in front of the television and show them where I sat, tell them what I saw and hopefully pass on some of the fondness for golf that I learned from my dad and from my trip to the Masters.
Katie Sheehan
Emory's Bobby Jones Scholarship winners look forward to their day at the Masters
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