Reality of playing Augusta National exceeds wildest dreams

AUGUSTA, Ga. — The first instinct is to say that Monday was a dream come true.

Except, c'mon. Who really, truly dreams about playing Augusta National Golf Club and expects it to actually come true?

To be able to walk the same walk that the legends of golf have walked. Jones. Snead. Hogan. Nicklaus. Woods.

Yet there I was on Monday, less than 24 hours after the pines of Augusta National were shaken to their roots with the roars of Tiger Woods' improbable, inconceivable fifth Masters title.

I was on Cloud Nine the moment I found out my name was drawn in the random media lottery for more than 500 members of the press covering the Masters this year. And to be honest, I may not come down for a while.

They say golf is a beautiful walk spoiled by a little white ball. Well, no white ball, no topped 4-iron, no yanked drive, no flubbed wedge, no miserable three-putt was going to ruin the five-hour stroll I took around Augusta National on Monday.

It's nearly impossible to relate exactly what Augusta National is like to someone who hasn't been there. You have to experience it for yourself to truly understand.

I kind of feel the same way about my experience on Monday. From driving up Magnolia Lane to dressing in the Champions locker room to practicing on the impeccably manicured practice range to, well, teeing it up from No. 1 to 18, nothing I can write can ever do it justice.

You get chills at every turn. At every step. Just knowing the history of the place and how few have been able to walk the same path.

And let's face it, when you make the walk with a caddie carrying your bag, handling every part of your game, you feel just the slightest bit like the professionals. I'm gonna admit, the walk had a bit of a swagger to it even though the game didn't exactly call for it.

But hit one pure shot out there — and I hit plenty — and you feel like you belong.

My warm-up was phenomenal. Lacing 7-irons and 4-irons as straight as I maybe ever have. Belting drives that were simply ideal. Chipping with touch. Hitting bunker shot after bunker shot that came out clean.

And then I stepped onto the course.

All week, my Masters buddy Lance Lahnert kept telling me to hit my trusty 4-iron on No. 1 to stay out of the fairway bunkers on the right. All week, I told him I didn't come to Augusta to lay up.

A strong Kansas-like wind set in for much of the day and was right into our face on No. 1. It was going to be driver all the way, and now with the wind I was ready to pound it — at least as much as my nervous, shaking body would allow.

Not only were the other members of my foursome and their caddies watching, but also a handful of Augusta National employees were there to welcome us. As much as that was intimidating, I can't imagine hitting in front of the thousands the PGA players do every week.

Needless to say, I delivered a beauty of a drive just up the left side of the fairway, creeping into the rough. Best one of the group. Take that, Lance.

I wish I'd finished the hole the way I started. I missed the green with my approach, and third shot, finally getting on before learning just how tricky the greens there are. I hit what I thought was a perfect putt on 1. It went 10 feet by with no trouble at all. A three-putt later, it was a triple bogey that immediately knocked me out of contention for the Masters.

I managed a bogey on No. 2 despite hitting my drive into the pines left. Another three-putt followed on No. 3 before I accomplished my biggest goal of the day. I made par on No. 4 — a hole that's traditionally one of the toughest for the pros at the Masters.

I was well short of the green on the par-3 hole, but pitched to 15 feet and made the right-to-left slider. There might have been a fist pump. Or 10. First par of the day for our group and the only one any of us made on the front nine.

I carded a few snowmen on the day. I fell victim to the wicked front-right bunker on No. 7, needing three shots to get out. I made a dandy of a 20-foot, downhill putt on No. 9 for bogey.

After a front-nine 56, my caddie, Bob from Augusta, who has 18 years toting bags around the course, said we were gonna get better on the back. When I duffed my drive on No. 10 — one I'd been dying to crush on the ski-slope hole — I wondered if that would be the case.

When I found the trees and water on No. 11 and took an 8, I really was in doubt. Then when I hit a screaming 8-iron on the famous par-3 No. 12 that skipped across Rae's Creek only to roll back in, well, I was ready to push the over-under mark that was rumored to have been set for my round by my golfing buddies.

But I rebounded with a great comeback on 12 and made 5, barely missing a bogey putt from just off the green.

Then I got as hot as I could possibly get. I hit the perfect drive up the left side of No. 13, leaving me 180 yards in on the par-5. Go for it time indeed.

I pulled a 4-iron right for a not-planned, but perfect lay-up and then hit the green, leaving myself a 45-footer above the hole. It might have been the best putt I hit all day, just sliding over the right edge, leaving me a tap-in par.

I went all Sergio on No. 15, putting two balls on the green only to have them roll back into the water after a great drive and second shot. I rallied to hit my best par-3 tee ball of the day on No. 16 and make par there, and then followed with a par on No. 17 as well.

No. 18 featured trees and sand, but I made a nice putt of 10 feet to end the round on a high.

Ahhhh, who am I kidding? I never left the high I was on since Saturday and may not for quite some time.

It was the best 107 I've ever carded in my life.

And let's face it, the best round I've ever had in my life. The stuff dreams are made of — even if I had never dreamed it was possible to begin with.