April 03, 2016: There is something magically refreshing about the Masters. As we chipped off right from the I20 on to the Bobby Jones Expressway, there was a tingling sensation running down the spine. And I wasn’t even close to the Augusta National Golf Club.
As you inch up Washington Road, the air around Augusta seems to emanate a special scent, one that clearly belongs to the Gods of golf. Gary Player walked up Magnolia Lane today, the tree lined street that leads to the iconic club. “I just walked up Magnolia Lane & said a prayer of thanks,” expressing gratitude to the Gods that visit here. “I was able to win this 3 times”
St Andrews might well be home to the golfing angels, but even they must feel incomplete without making frequent trips to this Southern delight, tucked away in a beautiful corner of Augusta.
One of the things that doesn’t steal the composure of a writer is the greatness of a player or the scale of an event. But Augusta and The Masters are beyond scale and magnitude. There is something spiritually elevating about being in the nick of these woods.
They are a little classic about everything here. It takes a conscious effort to lose your constant companion here, the angel keepers here do not like the sight of a cell phone. Perhaps the Gods of golf look at the phone as a distasteful distraction to the pursuit of golf.
I have heard several players tell me how walking the course is a near spiritual experience. Every inch at the Augusta National Golf Club feels spiritual, difficult to translate into words, a near ethereal experience that can only be understood if you feel that constant tingle in the spine.
It is easy to even think that golf is incidental here, at least till the chase for the first major of the season kicks off on Thursday.
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