Sunday at Augusta

Masters Sunday is the culmination of the Deep Thaw. It starts in mid-March with Selection Sunday, begins to melt with the Final Four and is nearly room temperature by Opening Day. It is the end of winter and leads off the great day drinking months that lie ahead.

This Masters was more than that, though, because golf fans, especially the casual ones like myself, got the dream pairing, and for the first nine holes, it lived up to its billing. Phil Mickelson traded his golf bag for a bird cage on Sunday to produce an historic front nine in which he threw up an Augusta record 30 to get to 10-under par, leaving him just two shots off the lead.

Tiger Woods, he of the balky putter that had put him in a Sunday hole, came along for the ride. The fist pump debuted after a long eagle putt on 8 that put him at 7-under for the tournament and in striking distance of the leaders. He hadn’t played well all week, but Tiger was lurking on Sunday in Red, and there was a sense that he and Phil might play their way into the final ceremony as they headed for Amen Corner.

I am not a fan of golf, but I rarely miss a final round at Augusta. Aside from psychologically signaling the end of winter, the course carries a mystique through the TV. Maybe it is because my most lasting Masters memory is of Mickelson making man boobs cool as he leaped in joy at his first major victory. Maybe it is because it’s the only major tournament that is played at the same course each year, and history haunts each of the famous dogleg turns. But I think its more because each year it is compelling, even when it is not well-played.

And the final round was not well-played in 2009. The 2009 Green Jacket belonged to Mickelson, and he yukked it away long before Kenny Perry had a chance and Angel Cabrera told the world, “En español, por favor.” He was on 12, at the end of the famous Amen Corner, having played the two hardest holes on the course even and remaining at 10-under, with the scoring potential of 13-16 within reach. But the bag of his epic oh-so-closes was back on caddie Jim MacKay’s shoulder, the parakeet Mickelson had carried all afternoon deserted him, and he washed his ball at the par-three 12, leading to a devastating double bogey 5 that was the beginning of the end. He had chances late, but an eagle try at 15 went begging and he missed a bird at 17, only to follow that up with a bogey on 18 that left him out of contention.

I know very little about golf (having only ever played three rounds in my life), but its greatest theatre lies in two areas; heroic efforts for victory, or epic collapses that spell defeat. On Sunday, we saw both sides from one player. Mickelson rallied to get into contention, but when he needed the putts to put on the Green Jacket, he couldn’t find the cup. Sports love their heroes and always remember the goats, and because of the individualistic nature of golf, every major tournament has a great hero/goat story. Mickelson couldn’t get to the next hole fast enough on the front nine as he ripped off bird after bird, but he probably wanted a time warp to get through the last nine as he trudged through a one-over-par. A golfer must stand in the middle of a great green expanse and hole all 18 balls to get to the clubhouse. He has no time limit to save him from a horrendous effort, no reliever to bail him out, and no defense against his opponents as they play around him.

And that’s why I never miss a Sunday at Augusta, because it never fails to deliver drama. A basketball game that was marred with turnovers and missed shots would be unwatchable, but Masters Sunday was complete with blown drives, pushed putts and wasted chances, and instead of rendering it unwatchable, it only made it more dramatic. No shot doomed or crowned any player, but after it was all said and done, the second guessers could choose any number of 10-15 shots that could have theoretically won the tournament for a number of players. Golf is a cruel game, and I reveled in others’ misery, the quality that makes it so frustrating for those that play, but so enjoyable for us who watch.