Sports is not a game of perfect. Except for today, and the three days that follow.
We tend to dwell on the negative, the foibles, the blemishes.
We realize the value of Jimmy Rollins when someone named Eric Bruntlett gets a rare start and kicks balls all over the Shea Stadium infield.
We remember the ball dribbling through Bill Buckner’s legs, Chris Webber calling a timeout, Andy Reid not utilizing a hurry-up offense as time wasted away in the Super Bowl, and that he decided to punt at the end of a playoff loss to the Saints.
But today we brush all that aside and see perfection, something God created and man polished into maybe the single greatest event in sports.
This perfection comes not because of the humans contesting their athletic endeavor, but rather the venue upon which they toil.
I speak of Augusta National Golf Club, and the Masters Tournament, which starts today.
I have never stepped foot on the grounds of the place that Bobby Jones built. It’s very unlikely that I ever will. I have seen the brilliance of all those azaleas and rhododendrons, which stand out on a perfectly manicured piece of real estate, only as they appear on a 27-inch TV.
But I still know perfection when I see it. And Augusta National is it.
I am a golfer, although the truth is I spend a lot more time watching it on TV than I do playing.
You can bet again this year I will spend a large part of this weekend parked in front of the TV, reveling in the vagaries of “Amen Corner.”
Are there social issues involving Augusta National? Sure. But for this weekend, I will set all that aside and look instead at perfection.
What is to be decided this weekend as well is whether one man will again raise his game to the level of the course on which it will be played.
Tiger Woods is the overwhelming favorite to win The Masters again this year. Just as he is every year. There is talk of Tiger on the prowl for a grand slam, winning all four of golf’s majors in the same year.
And it all starts this morning in Augusta, Ga.
About as close to perfect as sports gets.
We tend to dwell on the negative, the foibles, the blemishes.
We realize the value of Jimmy Rollins when someone named Eric Bruntlett gets a rare start and kicks balls all over the Shea Stadium infield.
We remember the ball dribbling through Bill Buckner’s legs, Chris Webber calling a timeout, Andy Reid not utilizing a hurry-up offense as time wasted away in the Super Bowl, and that he decided to punt at the end of a playoff loss to the Saints.
But today we brush all that aside and see perfection, something God created and man polished into maybe the single greatest event in sports.
This perfection comes not because of the humans contesting their athletic endeavor, but rather the venue upon which they toil.
I speak of Augusta National Golf Club, and the Masters Tournament, which starts today.
I have never stepped foot on the grounds of the place that Bobby Jones built. It’s very unlikely that I ever will. I have seen the brilliance of all those azaleas and rhododendrons, which stand out on a perfectly manicured piece of real estate, only as they appear on a 27-inch TV.
But I still know perfection when I see it. And Augusta National is it.
I am a golfer, although the truth is I spend a lot more time watching it on TV than I do playing.
You can bet again this year I will spend a large part of this weekend parked in front of the TV, reveling in the vagaries of “Amen Corner.”
Are there social issues involving Augusta National? Sure. But for this weekend, I will set all that aside and look instead at perfection.
What is to be decided this weekend as well is whether one man will again raise his game to the level of the course on which it will be played.
Tiger Woods is the overwhelming favorite to win The Masters again this year. Just as he is every year. There is talk of Tiger on the prowl for a grand slam, winning all four of golf’s majors in the same year.
And it all starts this morning in Augusta, Ga.
About as close to perfect as sports gets.
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