Masters memories

Offbeat anecdotes highlight 15 years of covering Augusta 

By John Garrity, SI.com

Memories are a little like those little silver balls in the Japanese pachenko machines -- they bounce off pins at random on their way down to their final cranial niches. When I reflect on the 15 Masters I have covered, a few "golfy" memories remain vivid, like Fred Couples' final-round tee shot on the par-3 12th that stuck like velcro to the steep bank above the water, allowing him to win the 1992 Green Jacket. Mostly, though, I remember things more personal and trivial, like the nitwit on Washington Road who offered me $2,000 for my media badge, adding, "That gets you into the champions dinner, doesn't it?"

Anyway, here are 10 instant, free-association Masters memories, presented in the order they emerge from my cerebrum:

1. One year, during the Wednesday par-3 tournament, I watched in amazement as a man snoozing on the steep bank of a pond slid feet-first into the water.

2. "Masters dandruff." (Some years, depending on how far the Georgia spring has progressed, the big tree behind the clubhouse drops clingy, caterpillar-like blossoms on all who gather beneath it.)

3. Jose Maria-Olazabal in a greenside bunker -- I don't remember which hole, I don't remember what year -- rehearsing the shot for what seemed like 10 minutes, endlessly positioning the club at different angles, changing his stance, backing off, and then starting over again. I have no recollection of the actual shot.

4. The Civil-War-grade mud at last year's Masters, which the CBS cameras artfully hid from viewers until Sunday, when one of the contenders hit a ball into the trees and practically had to put on skis to go after it.

5. Fans cheering in 1991 when Ian Woosnam of Wales hooked his ball over Rae's Creek and into the woods on No. 13. (Woosie responded to this nativist outburst by outplaying Olazabal and Tom Watson down the stretch to win his first and only major.)

6. The sadness of Ray Floyd, walking up the hill to the clubhouse in the dark after his loser's press conference in 1990. "I'll probably never get another chance like this," he said to no one in particular. (Floyd's approach shot into the water on the second hole of sudden-death had given the title to Nick Faldo.)

7. Gary Player, standing under the above-mentioned big tree, saying, "Bobby Jones is rolling over in his grave" at the thought of modern players three- and four-putting the tricked-up greens.

8. The Masters press room was where I first saw genuine high-definition television. (The picture was so good that you could actually read some of the putts over the shoulders of crouching caddies.)

9. Arnold Palmer, a sweater casually draped over his back, dining with friends under an umbrella on the National's veranda.

10. Aunt Nellie's Old-Fashioned Sauce, a local condiment. I think you're supposed to spread it on sandwiches, but it may simply be another of those Masters traditions that defy analysis.

What, no memories of Tiger? Well, I don't suppose I'll ever forget his left-handed shot from the azaleas in the final-round of last year's Masters. But that's a weird image to retain, when you consider that Woods has put on the Green Jacket three times in seven years and once won by a record 12 strokes.

But that's the Masters. It's a kaleidoscope of impressions, and you can't count on your memory to make much sense of it.

Did I mention that all these memories have a greenish cast to them?