Augusta National

You’ve got a ticket in your hand – Where will you go? What will you do? What will happen when you get there?

March 22nd, 1934. I arrive to the course, designed by Bobby Jones, in a 1933 silver Studebaker Dictator at 8am sharp. The wheels squeal in the hot gravel. The grass, still glazed with morning dew, smells fresher and more fragrant than a bouquet of flowers. Hundreds of people swarm to the first tee box – women in brimmed hats with floral printed day dresses, men in wide breasted suits, wooden pipes clenched between their teeth. Horton Smith starts the tournament, teeing his ball at hole one – nicknamed ‘Camellia’ – with an elegant backswing. The satisfying ‘clink’ of wooden club sends the ball flying across the course. The subtle and soothing claps of a polite crowd fill the air.

I’m an avid golf player, and value the rich history and storied, long standing traditions of the game. Of course, if I had a ticket with no limitations, I would voyage back in time to the first Augusta National Invitation Tournament in Georgia, an iconic moment of the PGA tour.

Throughout the day I follow different players, admiring their form and game; MacDonald Smith, a Scottish pro, and Leo Diegel, with his distinctive elbows-out putts. I think about how far golfing has come – technology, style. As the sun begins to set, Jimmy Hines hits the last...

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