Sunday at the Masters

Cut the soothing music. Yes, it's once again time for some of the best theater of the sports year.

Which is my way of saying it's Sunday at the Masters.

I'm not exactly sure why this tournament holds such an allure. Of course there is the pristine grounds of Augusta National Golf Course, in full bloom. It also is the only major tournament contested on the same turf each year. There's a familiarity to the place, even on TV.

But I think it's more because of what happens there every Sunday. They don't say "the Masters doesn't begin until the back nine on Sunday" for nothing.

There is almost nothing in sports that every year procudes the kind of drama as the trip through Amen Corner and the rest of the back 9 at Augusta.

For three days Trevor Immelman has mastered the Masters and Augusta National. Don't look for the same to hold true this afternon. The suffocating tension of Sunday at the Masters has a funny way of torturing those who hold the lead who don't happen to be named Tiger.

Think Greg Norman.

As for Woods, he's lurking in the rear-view mirror at 5 under, 6 off the lead.

I say he gets closer today, I'm just not sure he can roar all the way back for another green jacket.

But I do know this: It will be among the most compelling sports events of the year. It always is.

Look for Tiger to get close, but he won't win. No grand slam again this year.

But if he somehow does -- and only a fool would rule it out -- it would not surprise me.

This is, after all, Sunday at the Masters.

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