In a world that’s increasingly crass and contentious, and seemingly spinning faster and crazier with each new dawn, the Masters Tournament is a garden sanctuary where time seems to catch its breath.
The gentle grounds of the Augusta National Golf Club, among the most hallowed in all of sports, are indescribable to the uninitiated. There’s a peacefulness and calmness that
emanates from the coiffured knolls like water evaporating imperceptibly to the sky.
There’s an attention to detail and a reverence for tradition at the Masters that offers terra firma in today’s downside-up environment. It’s the sort of rare certainty and predictability and civility that steadies the proverbial fiddler on the roof.
No other major athletic event crawls inside the soul this way.
If you’re fortunate enough to have the most coveted ticket in sports, you will no doubt leave the grounds of Augusta National with some of the most coveted souvenirs in sports. If only they could also bottle the ambience to take with you. In maddening traffic, after the latest scandal or tragedy in the news, when others are losing their cool around you – you could take out Eau de Masters and spray it on you. Maybe on them.
Perhaps you can make do. In the absence of such a product, do your best to carry the spirit of the Masters with you – an air of elegance, charm, courtesy, decorum and cultivation. It is so lacking in the world today, yet it can come so naturally, and reproduce without effort.
The best events don’t end when the gate closes, the door shuts or the curtain comes down. They stay with you, become part of you. Nowhere is that more true than at the Masters.
Welcome to another place and time.