A Memorable Masters Anniversary

April 11—(Not Augusta, Ga.) For the past week, journalists, amateur journalists and anyone out of diapers in April of 1986 have reminded all of us that this 70th playing of the Masters marks the 20th anniversary of Jack Nicklaus’ stunning victory in 1986 at the not-so-tender age of 46..

The towering 4-iron for eagle at no. 15. Verne Lundquist’s famous call on CBS after he made birdie on 17: “Maybe…Yes sir.” Six birdies and an eagle on his final 10 holes.

On a one to ten scale of golf’s most memorable moments, that tops out at a 12.

On the opposite end of that scale, though, lies a less publicized, more recent Masters anniversary.

Three-hundred and sixty-four days before this year’s first round, I stood steps from entering the hallowed grounds of Augusta National, only to be denied. Apparently security doesn’t take too kindly to a 22-year old punk college kid attempting to sneak his way into Bobby Jones eternal monument with a PGA of America badge that bears his father’s name.

But the three-hour flight, two-hour drive and four-hour wait in pouring rain was still worth it, right Dad?

Fast forward 363 days to Wednesday afternoon, where I found myself suddenly employed at the Golf Channel. Sure, I may not have been in the press room during Jack Nicklaus’s news conference, but I did take in the satellite feed, clip off the best three minutes and wrap it in a pretty package for Live From The Masters, which aired later that night.

Shortly thereafter, my producer looked me in the eye, half-smiled and said, “In all my years of television, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.”

Impressed with my work, huh?

Oh. Did I forget to mention that Captain TV Rookie over here decided to insert a white flash between a reporter’s question and Nicklaus’s answer, which is the equivalent of fast-forwarding through the first 10 pages of your accountant’s tax report to see how much you owe or don’t owe Uncle Sam?

You did, didn’t you?

I can’t quite pick up the smell of the azaleas through the TV screen, and my regular lunch of PB & J doesn’t sound as appealing as a pimento cheese sandwich from Augusta National, but my assignment for this week doesn’t exactly involve balance sheets and investment portfolios. For six hours each day, Wednesday to Sunday, I am glued to the screen watching pre and post game coverage, collecting the week’s best one-liners and humorous moments for a piece logically called “Best of the Week.”

In case you’re wondering, that’s 30 hours of analysis, commentary and reaction versus roughly 15 hours of actual tournament coverage, which pales in contrast to ESPN’s ratio of providing two days worth of analysis, commentary and reaction of the NFL draft versus three minutes and 27 seconds of players walking to the podium, shaking Commissioner Tagliabue’s hand and not graduating from college.

With blowout coverage of one event, it’s no wonder that I am merely another tragic soul at the Golf Channel that has too much useless information stored in their head

For much of this week, the 2006 Masters Media Guide sat unnoticed and unneeded in the Golf Channel newsroom, not unlike Shawn Kemp for much of the past three years. 

On Tuesday, it took five people and 10 minutes to determine that only 15 players in history have won two or Masters. Never consulted, never even considered, a deep sigh came from the direction of the media guide.

Mapquest tells me that I am further from Augusta National now, than at this time last year. But Mapquest has been wrong before, like when it told me that a 7/11 in Orlando was actually the PGA Tour’s Funai Classic in Lake Buena Vista.

The lack of Tiger Woods and poor service should have been a dead give away.

In moments of despair like this, I draw strength from other figures in history that have endured through periods of abstinence. The 2004 Boston Red Sox. Josh Hartnett, in 40 Days & 40 Nights. And Pete Rose.

Which reminds me: Augusta National Chairman Hootie Johnson, Sir, if you’re reading this, I didn’t bet on golf.