The Masters

This weekend is the Crown Jewel of Golf: the Masters in Augusta, Georgia. Thousands of golf aficionados have made the pilgrimage to the mecca of all golf events. Professional golfers are dreaming of walking up to the 18th green, applause from the gallery encircling them, and shooting the perfect Birdie putt into the hole. The crowd will go wild, and with tears in his eyes, the newly crowned champion will accept the most coveted prize in all of golf-the Green Jacket. Just thinking about this scenario makes me want to be there.

Unfortunately, most of us are relegated to watching the Masters on television. Yes, that is right, there are die-hard golf fans across the country,such as my dad, who will spend the weekend in their recliners commenting on the competition. I will admit that I have tried on numerous occasions to watch the Masters on television. Unfortunately, all of my efforts have been futile. Unlike other sporting events, golf does not immediately capture my attention so that it is impossible for me to pull myself away from the competition until the very last putt is made. Instead, I usually sit around thinking "How can someone actually watch this?"

My attempts at watching the Masters, and other golf events, began at a very early age. Etched in my memory are many Sunday afternoons sitting in the living room with my dad looking at beautiful fairways, perfectly groomed sand, and crystal blue water on our pre-digital television. Oh yeah, and apparently there was a competition occurring. Somehow my dad had the magical power to see the golf ball on the television. My dad was as silent as the crowd gathered at each hole, anxiously waiting for the golfer to tee off. Once he heard the crack of the golf club hitting the ball my dad would exclaim "That's a good shot", or "The ball is going to land in the rough", or "That ball is going too far to the right." I just sat there, staring at the television, wondering why I could not view a tiny, white, circular object flying through the air. Shouldn't everyone be able to see it? I can honestly say that I have never been able to follow a golf ball on television from the time it took flight until its landing. The only time I ever witnessed an actual golf ball was when the golfer was putting. My dad would stare intently at the television screen waiting to see what would happen. Would the golfer hit his forty foot putt and make a Birdie? Or would the golfer's efforts simply end in a Double Bogey? Once the golf ball moved, and inched closer and closer to the hole, my dad would either say "He's going to miss that shot" or "It's definitely going in."

My dad's ritual would continue on each hole, and I would just sit there bored, hoping that maybe my dad would change the channel so I could watch something actually interesting, such as cartoons or MTV. It never happened. Occasionally I would ask my dad who was winning, and I would receive one of three responses. My dad would simply say "the winner", he would mumble a golfer's name, or he would wait to answer my question until after a player's name would pop up on the screen with the word "leader" attached to it. Those were some of the longest Sundays of my life. I never thought that the words "dinner" coming from my mother's lips would sound so precious.

This weekend my parents will be visiting. I am 98% sure that at some point on Sunday my dad will "accidentally" change our antiquated television to the Masters. After all, my dad has to watch the final few pairs on the last three holes to see that winning moment. Being the always dutiful daughter, I will sit on my couch, staring at the screen, wondering if there really is a golf ball, listening to my dad's comments, and reminiscing about all of those father-daughter moments we shared while I was growing up that I never truly appreciated.