Pucko: A day at the Masters

As originally aired on the Rochester Press Box

Bucket lists are tricky.  At the end of the day, the only thing you notice is what’s not crossed off.  And eventually you’ll run out of time.  Still, here are some things I learned while attending the Masters Golf Tournament earlier this month.

To start with, you get a good look at the event.  There are grandstands everywhere.  I saw action at seven holes and witnessed almost the entire field in Friday’s second round without much trouble.  You bring in your small folding chairs, set them up and leave them if you’d like.  Patrons are encouraged to use unattended seats.  At the end of the day, you go back and claim them.  And they’re always there.

The grandstand overlooking Amen Corner, as it was first dubbed in 1958, provides a view of the iconic 11th, 12^th and 13^th holes.  And it comes with its own set of rules.  Because of their close proximity, you aren’t really allowed to cheer.  A fan hollered out, “Way to go Pat” to Patrick Cantlay.  He was immediately chastised by the marshals and we were all suitably ashamed.  Glad it was him and not us.

For the past twenty years, Augusta National has been buying houses adjacent to the club.  Investing some 200 million dollars to purchase 100 properties covering 270 acres.  And turning it all into parking space.  There is one holdout.  Elizabeth Thacker owns the house she and her husband built in 1959 and she won’t sell.  A holdout house it’s called, and has become a bit of a landmark in Augusta.

Meanwhile, all that parking space?  It’s free.  Once you happen upon tickets for the Masters, and that’s really the tough part, they don’t gouge you.  For anything. They somewhat famously offer a perfectly good egg salad sandwich for a buck and a half.

The worst thing you can do, and it isn’t close, is get caught with a cell phone.  It’s the number one rule.  Leave them behind or they will be confiscated.  The golfers themselves play in fear that one of their guests will be caught with a phone and their reputation will be forever smeared.  Augusta National is so austere, and proud of its stature, that one of the participants claimed as a pet peeve that he was always afraid of doing something wrong there.

So, I can now officially cross attending the Masters off my bucket list.  Even though I don’t really keep one.