The Wall of Green

A Personal Guide to the Masters

By David CogginsApril 07, 2021

Masters week is marked in my Smythson calendar long in advance. My schedule is categorically and unequivocally blacked out so nothing interferes with my complete viewing experience, which is really an immersion. At 3pm Thursday afternoon, when the tinkling piano score of one Dave Loggins kicks in, and Jim Nantz starts talking about the season of renewal or whatever, then I am ready to devour it, like somebody’s first meal after a fast.

The Masters works hard to build the mystique. And all I can say, as a non-golf fan, it completely works. I am not a passive fan who leaves this up to others. On the contrary, a correct Masters viewing requires planning and resolve. How do I prepare for the Masters? Do I watch the tournaments leading up to the big day? Am I on top of current form and studying the statistics of players and their rate of fairways hit? Hell no! What I do to prepare is buy a half-case of Riesling. This is much more useful than getting my hopes up for Tommy Fleetwood and then having them unravel.

Riesling is a good thing to drink for four straight hours. It reminds me of Spring and the Masters does too. The broadcast’s effect is a wall of green, I don’t care about that rumor that they piped-in the bird sounds one year. I don’t care if the color some fairways have been “enhanced.” That’s like complaining about the special effects in Star Wars. We’re talking about the overall effect here, and the overall effect is a pastoral setting for a competition that becomes increasingly intense over the weekend.

The Masters broadcast is one of platonic ideals of the form. As you know, there are barely any ads, no promotions for dreadful sitcoms, nothing to distract you from what’s going on. And what’s going on is people attacking the pin on the 16th Hole and Verne Lundquist nearly spilling his white wine. When I get my first “Oh my!” from Verne then I am living my best life.

I tried Masters parties and gatherings with fellow travelers. But it’s a very tricky business. I don’t want to discuss what’s happening. I want it to wash over me in a wall of mellow sound. It may be awkward to turn to your friend and say, “I’m sorry, I’m really trying to hear what Sir Nick has to say here,” but sometimes you have to do what you have to do for peak Masters enjoyment. Ultimately, a good friend will understand.     

When I had a chance to attend the Masters it was wonderful and slightly strange—I almost didn’t expect Augusta National to exist in three dimensions. And one thing many people tell you is that you can’t appreciate how much the course elevates. And that’s really true. All of the good planning you’d expect is true—no lines anywhere, thoughtful approach to just about every part of the experience. The fact that you’re not allowed to use phones is another monumentally good decision. You end up far more engaged with what’s happening in front of you.

When I attended it was with Michael Williams, I believe you know his work. It was really special to enjoy that time with a great friend who loves golf. When I looked around I saw this was not unusual. There are were fathers with sons, reunions of old friends, believers who finally made the pilgrimage. We felt a sense of collective goodwill and good fortune, it was the rare time when everybody was enjoying one of their best days.