Forget the Phillies.
Yes, I'm glad the Phils won their first series of the young season by routing the Mets again last night, 7-3. I'm happy that the boys have now won two games in a row for the first time this year.
But I have other things on my mind.
No, not temperatures in the upper 80s, although I have to admit I thought about any reason to get out of the office yesterday afternoon.
No, for the next four days, there is only one sport, only one event.
It is my favorite sporting event of the year.
It's time to drive down Magnolia Lane (at least in my head) and drinkin the glory of spring at Augusta.
It's time for the Masters.
Maybe it's because I'm a frustrated golf nut. Maybe it's the time of year, with spring just beginning to break out across the region after another long, frigid winter. Or maybe it's just the familiarity, the fact that it is the only golf major (in fact one of the very few major sports events) held in the same venue every year.
I have never been to Augusta, or its most favorite shrine, the Augusta National Golf Club. I don't expect to get there any time soon.
I can only get as close to it as a 50-inch hi-def flat-screen will take me. But there are few things as pretty as the place Bobby Jones built, on fire with dogwood and azaleas in full bloom.
Oddly enough, the people I have talked to have who have been there say you would never know what lurks inside from driving through that main drag in Augusta, a collection of strip malls like so much of America. But take that turn down Magnolia Lane and you are transported into one of the truly pristine playing surfaces in sports.
Just looking at the place would be enough, but the every year the Masters seems to produce some of the best drama in sports. The championship is held over four days, but everyone knows the tournament does not being until the back nine on Sunday.
That's where you'll find me on Sunday. Not amid the towering Georgia pines. But instead in front of my TV.
It's one of the few times that I think a TV promotion gets it exactly right.
"A tradition like no other."
By the way, it says here Tiger wins. I know I say that every year. This year I'm sure. Put the house on it. Preferably yours, not mine.
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