My Saddest Moment In Golf at Augusta National
Brad Ewart At Augusta National - Image Contributed
By Brad Ewart
One of the saddest moments in my golf career was the day I almost played Augusta National Golf Club - home of the Masters Championship...
It was April 11, 1988, Masters Media Monday. The day after Scotland’s Sandy Lyle hit the amazing 7-iron shot from the fairway bunker on the 72nd hole to make birdie and win the Masters.
Legendary amateur champion Bobby Jones and investment banker Clifford Roberts organized the first Masters championship played in 1934. Jones knew that the media could help grow the status of his tournament and every year hosted a media golf outing at Augusta National the day after the final round of The Masters.
This became one of their legacies each year with 40 members of the media on Monday playing to the final round pin positions. The previous year, covering the Masters as a reporter for The Vancouver Province Newspaper and CKNW radio, my name had not been drawn to play.
The following year, late Vancouver Sun reporter/golf writer Arv Olson told me his Masters credentials had come through and suggested we travel together. I told Arv to bring his clubs because we had a chance to play Augusta National on Media Monday after the final round.
“I don’t have time to play golf. I’m going to work and write about golf. Not play!” barked Olson.
I suggested he bring his golf shoes and throw a glove and a few balls in his suitcase anyway. “You might get drawn and play one of the best and most exclusive courses in the world,” I told him.
One of the first things we both did when checking in at The Masters Media Centre was to enter our names in the draw for Media Monday. The weather that week was perfect, showcasing the immaculate condition of the famous course.
This was the year Larry Mize, Greg Norman and Severiano Ballesteros were in a playoff for the title. Ballesteros would bogey the first playoff hole with Mize chipping in on the next hole to win.
Earlier in the round I was sitting in the media section of the bleachers on the par five 15th hole. I was sitting with legendary golf writer Herbert Warren Wind while watching Norman play his second shot over the water and onto the green. Wind, a legend in the literary world, co-wrote Ben Hogan’s Fundamentals of Golf.
Just then Olson arrived with an ear-to-ear grin singing his own little song, “I’m playin’ Augusta. I’m playin’ Augusta. Yahoo!”
Somewhat hopefully, I said, “Arv. Did my name get drawn?”
Trying to hold back his excitement Arv quietly dipped his head and said, “No.”
For the second time in two years, my name had not been drawn to play. The next morning I would drive Arv to the course. I pulled up to the main gates of the Augusta National Golf Club where a Pinkerton guard with a clipboard stopped us from entering.
“What’s your name boy,” said the guard in a heavy Southern drawl.
“My name is not on your list sir,” I explained. “I’m just driving my lucky friend Arv Olson from Vancouver, Canada. He’s going to play today.”
“Okay. I see his name right here. R.V. Olson. Now you drive him in and then drive right out. Your feet don’t touch the pavement. You hear me boy?!” emphasized the guard.
The drive up ‘majestic’ Magnolia Lane didn’t seem as majestic since I wasn’t going to play here that day. Arv was politely needling me with his giddy song, “I’m playin’ Augusta. I’m playin’ Augusta.”
I had to try. I had to give it one good shot and see if there was any chance of playing. After parking the car, my feet did hit the pavement, and at a full sprint, I ran around the clubhouse and out to the starter on the first tee.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said as I showed the starter my media badge. “I drove my friend here this morning. I have media credentials but I didn’t get drawn to play. Is there any chance I could get out? Have there been any cancellations?”
“You are in luck,” said the starter. “The player in the last group couldn’t change his flight and had to cancel his golf. If you have clubs, you can play.”
Of course I had my clubs. I had prepared and practiced my entire lifetime for this moment. There were pretty good odds that I would never get an invitation to play in The Masters and this was my chance to actually play here.
For the next 30 minutes, I would putt on the Augusta National GC practice putting green. It was like putting on the hood of the car giving a new meaning to ‘lightning fast.’ At that moment I was “the happiest golfer on earth.” I was about to play Augusta National Golf Club.
My group was starting on hole No.10. The downhill, dogleg left par-four that begins the journey through the famous back nine. I was ready. Glove on with driver resting over my arm and ball and tee in hand. The club’s caddy had my bag over his shoulder and it was our group’s turn.
The first three players hit their tee shots and now I was away. Just then, a man came running around the corner of the clubhouse with a small carry bag looped over his back and he was yelling, “I changed my flight! I made it! I changed my flight! I made it!”
The starter looked at me and said, “I’m sorry sir.” He didn’t need to say anything more.
Almost in tears, I replied, “So am I.” I walked off the tee and to this day not playing Augusta National Golf Club remains as one of the saddest moments in my golf life.
The course is still on my bucket list. Maybe one day...
MASTERS’ NOTEBOOK (1988)
- Gates open at 7:00 a.m.
- In 1969, George Knudson finished tied for second with Billy Casper and Tom Weiskopf, one stroke behind winner George Archer at seven-under-par 281