In this most unusual year, the tradition like no other returns … a bit late, next week. I checked the forecast and the boys will have somewhat spring-like conditions. This post begins (and possibly concludes?) our coverage. Check Masters.com for more information.
Ladies and Gentlement, Tiger Woods.
AUGUSTA, Ga. — Tiger Woods has done it again. After an 11-year drought, golf’s most polarizing and popular figure has added another major to his dossier, outlasting a star-studded leaderboard on Sunday by posting a final round 2-under 70 to win the 2019 Masters. It’s his first major win since the 2008 U.S. Open, 15th of his career and first at Augusta National since 2005.
The fun starts at noon (2 PM for the internet).
Golf Digest has it down:
AUGUSTA, Ga. — You can take your Home Run Derby, Slam Dunk, Skills Competition and shove ’em. Sports’ best ancillary showcase is the Par 3 Contest. Given the excitement and energy that surrounds the Wednesday tournament, one would be forgiven for confusing it as a major itself. Think that’s hyperbole? After spending the early afternoon camping out at the scene, I assure you it’s not. Here are eight reasons why the Masters’ Par 3 Contest is the best non-event event in sports.
It’s one of the most aesthetically pleasing amphitheaters in entertainment
Sitting to the right of the clubhouse, two ponds comprise the Par 3 Course’s epicenter, surrounded by trees, shrubs, flowers, pine straw, and any other nature item Bob Ross ever painted, with white Augusta National cabins hovering on the horizon. Oh, and nine of the greenest, finely-manicured par 3 holes on the planet. When dotted with the patrons, it’s a confluence of color so spectacular they can’t be replicated on a palette.
The roars …
Enjoy that, live or on the Screens.
Tonight I suppose they may still run the party at Hooters on Washington Road. Is the tent up this year? Is the shopping center still there? Hmm.
Last night, the Darius Rucker Show took a victory lap around the remains of what used to be ROCK Fore!
It’s entirely possible the Sweetwater Brewpub may be operational at SRP Park. Uh…
I think I’m heading to the beach in just a bit…
It wouldn’t be the practice rounds without the weather.
Gates opened as scheduled this morning at Augusta National Golf Club for Tuesday’s practice round.
Steady rain has been falling all morning, and the forecast calls for continued rain with some shorter breaks before more rain moves in later this morning.
The forecast calls for the chance of strong storms this afternoon with heavy downpours, small hail and gusty winds.
Wednesday’s Par-3 Contest forecast looks good with sunny and warm temperatures expected.
The weather for the first round of the 83rd Masters on Thursday is expected to be partly cloudy and warm.
Almost let this one slip. Today – not next week! Today is inaugural Women’s Championship day. Kids tomorrow. The Gentlemen crank up practice Monday morning. More to come.
I could get used to this new Masters thing. Sierra Brooks/Golfweek.
CBS can fill you in on the tournament if you didn’t see it previously.
Here’s something you won’t be able to see until tomorrow:
Perrin’s Sneak Peak of Augusta’s (North Augusta’s) Incredible New Baseball Stadium, SRP Park:
I think this is a coming Crown Plaza:
Even the parking deck is nice:
Supposedly a beer garden somewhere in there:
Just nice, first class:
This “highly respected web log” isn’t just about loving guns and cigars nor hating on GubMint. The roving source for sporting news…
Alas … there was no Par Three Contest this year! Yesterday’s weather terminated activities around Noon. Dustin Johnson went home only to find a banana peel on the stairs…
Well, here’s a look back at Par Threes of the recent past:
Oh, weather or not, I did run into Mrs. Par Three, 2017, last night:
There was that!
Monday commences the greatest week in sports. Actually the fun starts Sunday though the revelers are rolling in now.
If you’re in town feel free to roam Washington Road and adjacent areas – nice and clean and ready to entertain this one week out of the year. It’s not always like that.
If you return to Washington Road any other week of the year, the stores will all be as you remember them, and the traffic almost as bad as you remember. What’s gone, however, is the frisson: Gone are the smiling white men in Easter egg-hued pants streaming onto the grounds clutching their golden badges. Gone are the entrepreneurs selling those men Macanudos and Cohibas and Ashton Churchills as fat as a pipefitter’s fingers. Gone is the tent for the Christian Motorcyclists Association Resurrection Riders with tattooed men in “Riding for the Son” jackets hawking pop the color of antifreeze, and the black guy on the sidewalk with a hand-lettered sign advertising “cold juicy apples” from an old Styrofoam cooler that appears to have recently held bait. Hooters — yeah, it’s still here, still packed, but now the crowd comes for Monday Night Football, not the Green Jacket Bikini Contest.
What’s gone, in short, is the party, and the feverish city-wide embrace of golf and belief in its saving powers, or at least belief in the redemptive power of golf’s money, and the feeling — for a single week in April — as real and heady as the azalea-drenched air that, just maybe, all things are possible here.
Summer doesn’t abandon Georgia by late October. Step outside and a soft washcloth-slap of humidity reminds you that you’re in the South. The sky has the kind of look that wouldn’t be welcome if on a boat a far piece from land — bright but reconsidering, edged with cauliflower cumulus. In the yards not far from the National, the azalea blossoms have been replaced by red Georgia football pennants. This is Dawg country. The only challenge to their popularity is the political yard sign. It’s election season in Augusta. And many Augustans say the autumn’s mayoral race is crucial — the indicator whether this city will finally grope its way forward.
This is a city still shaking off the blows of its past, some of them subtle, some as sharp as grenade blasts: a violent race riot in 1970 that drew national attention, suburban malls that sprang up in the late ’70s, further decimating the once-vibrant downtown. Between 1950 and 1986, the city’s population dropped more than 40 percent, from a high of 72,000 to 42,000. Augusta was dying. So in 1996 voters agreed to merge governments with the surrounding county.
Suddenly — immediately — shrunken Augusta became swollen Augusta-Richmond County, the second-largest municipality in Georgia behind Atlanta — 200,000 people today. A chunk of Georgia that spraddles from high-rises to piney-woods, all under the name Augusta. During last year’s Masters, the local newspaper, The Augusta Chronicle, reported the arrest of a local man for making moonshine.
The consolidation was supposed to be salvation, but it hasn’t worked out that way.
Chris Solomon wrote those words ten years ago, yesterday. And salvation still alludes Georgia’s second city. Some things have changed for the better: the interstates have been rebuilt and widened, making escapes faster. Others changed for the worse: Darius Rucker continues to plague the area each Spring. A few more government contracts and monies, a little more traffic, more sex trafficking. Most Augustans are willfully oblivious to most of reality. The sacred pile of magic bricks collapsed late last year, casting a pall of misery over the already struggling Detroit of the South.
There is the Masters though. And the big tent at Hooters!
Not all is bad in the Dead City…
The 80th Masters Tournament is now in the books. It was a year that challenged the field like few have – wind, wind, more wind, and the Augusta factor. Hats off to Danny Willett for his win!
All in all it was a terrific year. Spieth looked unbeatable until he wasn’t. Highs and lows and wind. Springtime in Augusta.
Outside the gates things were booming too. The cigar market, as headed by Russell Wilder, charted new territory. I haven’t seen any figures but it seems to me there was more money in town than normal – a good sign. Aside from that stretch of Washington Road and I-20’s Exit 200, traffic seemed almost normal. Good traffic management is one of the reasons the Wall Street Journal names ours the best major sporting event in the world. And, World, thank you once again for your visit.
Now, tomorrow is back to the usual in the most unusual city in America. Fifty-one weeks til next year…