I love golf. I don’t talk about it much and don’t get to play as often as I’d like. I managed to go twice last week and played two full 18-hole rounds. I was worn out by the end of both, since I walk when I play.
Walking and soaking in the beauty of the course is how the game was meant to be enjoyed. I bring this up because Sunday at The Masters falls on my birthday this year. That got me reflecting on what I know about golf and who my favorites are.
Apologies to those who didn’t come here to read about Rory McIlroy chasing a career grand slam or Scottie Scheffler trying to win his third green jacket in four years down in Augusta, Georgia.
For those folks, here’s something else to consider: why would someone throw an entire box of gas station chicken strips into the flower pot in front of our office? We just planted those flowers. They had to have a reason. Email me your guesses and I’ll share the best ones here next week.
Back to the golf talk. I’ll be turning 30 on the final day of the 89th Masters Tournament. Some might ask, “Why is that such a big deal?” My answer is simple: the traditions.
Sure, they might pump in bird sounds during the broadcast (not something we need at Decatur Country Club, thank you very much) and yes, Augusta National is mostly made up of a very exclusive group of wealthy members. But we regular folks still tune in every April because we know we’re going to see some of the best golf in the world. Even though Tiger Woods won’t be playing this year due to injury and surgery, the magic of The Masters remains.
For me, watching The Masters is a personal tradition. Every year, without fail, I tune in. This year just happens to be a little more special.
Timothy Holdiness is the publisher and editor of The Newton County Appeal. He can be reached at publisher@newtoncountyappeal.com
