The Member Tees measure just 6,365 yards, almost eleven hundred yards less
than the Masters Tees. On some holes, like 16, the disparity was
negligible, but
on others, like 11, the difference was more than 100
yards. It's a lot easier
coming into the treacherous 11th green with a
wedge instead of a 3-iron, that's for
sure.
Strangely, there are no intermediate tees in the 6,800-yard range. But
Augusta does a number of things that you don't find at your typical
club. There
are no ball washers or gaudy plaques by the tees with hole
layouts and yardages.
The small, white scorecard is a wonderfully succinct statement to the club's
less-is-more philosophy. It doesn't even contain the course's rating
and slope,
but, then, there aren't any. Hole handicaps are based on
length, so the 145-yard
12th is rated as the 16th hardest hole, which
is clearly not the case, even on
the calm morning like I have. (It was
the second most difficult hole during the
tournament with a 3.30 stroke
average.)
So how fast are the greens? They weren't cut before
our round, but they still had to Stimp out at 12 or 13. With the pin
placements
in their same Sunday location, I feel like I'm putting on a
newly waxed
gymnasium floor. I'm so tentative—even on uphill
putts—that I can't put my
normal stroke on the ball and my putting
suffers as a result, winding up with
36 waves of the wand. I'm happy
to say I don't four putt any holes, though, and have only
two three putts,
on 13 and 5.
The bunkerless 14th has perhaps the most challenging green, a wavy work of
art with its beautifully sculpted mounds and swales. I thought I hit a
perfect
approach to the back, middle-left hole location, but my ball
ends up on the
right side of the green 40 feet from the hole.
My favorite shot of the day is my second on 15. From up on top of the
hill, I have a wonderful view of much of the course, now fully lit by the sun. I
just want to freeze the moment. My 4-iron from 200 yards ends
up over the
bunker between the green and the bleachers, leaving
me with the same eagle chip
that Tiger had in the final round. Like
him, I only make par, but I was
happy to avoid having to hit a shot
off the downhill slope over the water to the
crowned green.
I wind up doubling 18, but as we walk off the back of the green,
longtime CBS announcer Jim Nantz, a friend of Mike's, is standing
there to
greet us and ask about our round. The only way this could
get any better is
if they hand me a green jacket right now.
The front nine was more of the same, bogeys interspersed with the occasional
par and double, along with slack-jawed disbelief every step of the way. I finally manage to get a birdie on the 480-yard 8th
after
skipping in my third shot to three feet, but my lay-up had to be
perfect to give me
the correct angle to the back-left pin placement.
It's those kind of shot values
that make Augusta what it is: a marvel
of strategic thinking, not to mention unrivaled beauty coupled with a wonderful history and tradition.
Final score: 85. Fun quotient: off the charts. I can't wait for 2015.
