Soap Box

In 1981 I did a Friday night concert in Augusta, Georgia while the Masters Tournament was being played and a police captain, who was doing security at the show, asked me if I'd like to go out to the tournament the next day.

Of course I wanted to go out to the tournament the next day and since our Saturday night concert was just up the road in Atlanta, a few hours layover in Augusta were doable and thanks to the good offices of the Augusta PD we headed for the Masters.

We walked around the course watching legend after legend competing against each other to win the greatest golf tournament of them all.

Due to my limited time I was only able to stay long enough to see the last twosome of Jack Nicholas and Greg Norman start their round and I remember seeing their two blond heads bobbing down the fairway together.

At that time I never dreamed that one day I would walk down those same fairways chasing one of my errant tee shots.

By way of a very large Divine blessing and a benevolent member Hazel and myself actually played, or more accurately, duffer our way around 18 holes at Augusta National. The round was just a few days before the fabled tournament was played and a golf course that is kept in immaculate condition at all times was being groomed right down to the last blade of grass.  

I was a little surprised at just how severe the tee to green elevation is on some of the holes, much more so than they appear on television, the fairways stretch down gently sloping but substantial hills to magnificent greens that are many feet below the tee elevations.

In the heat of trying to hit a decent shot you can actually drift into forgetting where you are, but just for a few seconds. When you look up and realize �I�m in the Amen Corner at Augusta National" the almost surreal feeling returns with a rush and the awe continues.

The Master Tournament is the one golf event a year I make a serious effort to watch, no matter what time zone or location I happen to be in, I'm going to be glued to the tube on Saturday and Sunday afternoons watching the planet's best compete for the most coveted golf award, the green jacket that means your name moves into greatness along with the elite golfers of all time.

No other tournament in existence approaches the presentation standards, on the course and on television like the Masters. If I had to describe it in one word I would definitely say "class."

From the gently moderated voices of the television announcers to the unpretentious bumper music, from the introduction of the players to the presentation of the green jacket the whole event comes across with an air of gentile understatement in an atmosphere of antebellum southern charm and even when the pressure mounts to a fever pitch on the course the spectators are always respectful and hold their appreciative applause until it will not be a distraction to the play.

Bubba Watson's bold and steady winning round at the Masters this year was a beautiful thing to watch as he hit into and out of trouble, never yielding to the pressure of a hot young golfer named Jordan Spieth who nipped at his heels and got a couple of strokes up on him during the front nine.

But Watson held on, unreeling that wicked driver and following it with outstanding short play and winning his second green jacket in three years.

Even the commercials are fewer and farther between on the Masters telecast and it seems somehow the planners schedule the tournament at the height of the Azalea and Dogwood season and each hole looks like a pastoral painting by some Renaissance impressionist.  

Another Masters has come and gone and although we'll see many more golf tournaments this year, televised from some outstanding golf courses, none will quite come up to the pageantry, the beauty and the class of the one played at Augusta National Golf Club every April.

The one they call the Masters.

What do you think?

Pray for our troops and the peace of Jerusalem.

God Bless America

Charlie Daniels​