Sunday Afternoon At Augusta: Reason To Cheer

It OS's ritual, and his bride indulges him, and sometimes even watches with him. She really loves him, to endure an afternoon of TV golf.

There are no cheers in sport like the cheers at Augusta; lusty, happy, enthusiastic roars ring across the course on Sunday afternoon. Some of the best television in television is CBS's coverage of Sunday afternoon in Augusta. Jim Nantz can tell the tale, and Nick Faldo knows how to explain the game from the point of view of someone who has won the event three times. The producer and director know how to create a narrative out of the slow progress of the pairs of golfers, doing things that look arcane to those who don't follow this strange sport.

Phil gets the Green Jacket this year, thankfully. A Good Guy wins, instead of the Bad Boy. He began and ended his round with 3-wood tee shots, emblematic of a hard-earned humility. His wife, battling cancer, and family were assembled to greet him, regardless of the score. It was a win, no matter what the scorecard read.

But there were a number of others who walked off 18 smiling ear to ear. Anthony Kim played the round of his young life, and beamed. Tom Watson exuded class, and greeted the cheers with his warm, wry smile. Freddie Couples, in his slippers without socks, came so close to winning, but never forgot to enjoy every moment. Lee Westwood did his country proud, hopefully will be on his best game for The Open. Sixteen-year-old Matteo Manassero, the young player to ever make the cut, won low amateur, and was sweet and gracious in his victory.

Tiger scowled, berated himself in public for not winning, didn't bother to thank the fans who cheered him on, or the tournament organizers who could have understandably let him know he was unwelcome this year. He cryptically noted he didn't know when he would play the next tournament. Even had he won by five strokes, the joyless visage would have been the same, because he hadn't won by seven.

He just doesn't Get It.

Masters Week, the gift of a true hero

Were I King of the World, I would ban rugby and declare Golf the official sport of Earth.

Like all Utopian efforts, it would backfire, but it's a fond thought, no?

So, short of that, let every family teach their children of America's true hero of sport and life: Bobby Jones.

He achieved at the highest levels, always as an amateur, retired from competition, and devoted his remaining forty-one years(many of them in the throes of illness) to improving the world and every life around him. Amongst his contributions are the development of Augusta National, and founding the Masters.

Modesty, loyalty, and industry characterized his life, and we owe him our thanks for allowing those magical Sunday afternoons every April, when the world stops and holds its breath for the final nine holes, awaiting that crucial birdie putt as the sun begins to drop behind the trees.

As we find our way back to sanity, let's fire Denis Rodman and LeBron James, and reinstate Bobby Jones and his ilk to the true hero status they deserve, and we need.

(And, further, were I King, I'd require a return to persimmon!)