It was almost like a Twilight Zone episode. Everything looked the same...

...from the main Masters scoreboard, still sporting the flags all of the nations represented at this year's tournament...

...to the big oak tree, guarding the facade of the clubhouse.
But there were NO fans...ahem, no patrons. It was almost eerie to be one of only a handful of people on the grounds, when you're used to seeing thousands surrounding the fairways and greens. And it made the course look SO much bigger.

See how wide open it looks from the top of the hill--even the delivery truck looks small in the background!
Luckily, it also played wide open. Augusta National's fairways are extremely generous (thanks goodness), with the only exception being some sloping edges on certain holes (like the dogleg at 2). I needed all the room I could get. When I stood on the 1st tee, and looked out on the vista I've seen dozens of times on TV or in person, my knees were shaking and I could barely get the club back.

That hill looks awfully imposing. Luckily, my adrenaline kicked in, and I blasted the ball just left of the bunker. I was in good shape off the tee, but in the story of my day, my woes would come once I reached the green. I had numerous chances at par that turned into three-putt bogeys. The greens at Augusta National are the great equalizer, and even though they played slower due to the Sunday rain, they were still plenty fast enough to wreak havoc with my putting.

But there were highlights amid the beauty and the godawful putting. Like the 6th green, seen above with one of my playing partners. I flew the green but chipped delicately within 2 feet of the hole and finished off my par. Yes, par at Augusta, It was a thrill I'll remember every time I see this hole played by the pros in the future.

I see the clubhouse again--we must be getting ready to make the turn!
The course was exactly as it was when Adam Scott emerged victorious over Angel Cabrera Sunday night, minus the rain. The pins were in their Sunday positions, so we could picture ourselves in the heat of the final round competition.

It was like a time warp on Monday, with the traditional hand-operated scoreboards still showing how the hopes of most came crashing back down late Sunday, with the exception of Scott and Cabrera.

The 10th hole (officially named Camelia) has always been one of my favorites, perhaps because it used to be the first hole we saw when CBS signed on for its weekend TV coverage. Or maybe it's because my favorite golfer, Ben Crenshaw, took a huge step toward his first Green Jacket with a monster putt on 10 in 1984. Or maybe it's because of the challenge golfers face to shape their shots down the sloping hill. Whatever the reason, here I am--staring my own tee shot down the hill.

11 was not as tough for us (playing from the members' tees) as it was for the pros, but it's still a devilish test. Here's the putt I had for par, downhill and toward the pond. Needless to say, I didn't make par, or bogey. Sad.

I have a picture of the 12th hole hanging in my house. But to take my own photo as I prepared to hit a tee shot from historic Amen Corner--priceless.

Up, away and safely in the middle of the green...where I would again three-putt. Oh, well, at least I got to make the walk across the Hogan Bridge for the first time.

That's a walk in a lot of legendary golfers' footsteps.
It's a gorgeous slice of the world--the view of the 12th hole and the 13th tee.

And looking back one last time on my trip inside the ropes at 12.

I got a little picture-happy on the 2nd nine. Luckily, caddy Ryan was always happy to accomodate.

I knew I needed a little something extra to get around the bend and have a chance at the green in 2 on 13. I wound up in the Mickelson straw and had to lay up, instead.
Unfortunately, it was soon after 13 that our phones started buzzing with the news of the Boston Marathon bombings. We all got distracted, and I stopped taking a lot of photos.
But one memory of that 2nd nine will always stand out, even if I don't have the picture to prove it. On 16, where Jack Nicklaus left tracks in 1975, and where Tiger had that magical chip-in from behind the green in 2005. I admittedly plunked my tee shot at the par-3 in the water. So, splash in 1, out in 2. I'm hitting my third shot off the tee now, and it goes long and right. From just off the fringe, and with caddy Ryan's help on the read, I rolled it up into the back middle of the green, then let it feed down the hill...and into the cup. Bogey, but a dramatic one that had our entire group cheering.
Meant to snap a picture of the Eisenhower tree and forgot. Luckily I managed to navigate my way around it on 17.

18 looks even more intimidating in person than it does on TV. Check out the narrow chute leading to a very steep hill that doglegs right up to the green where so many have made the triumphant Sunday walk.
And just like that, it was over. We walked up 18, traded congratulations, took one last look around...and headed for our cars. One magical day of golf, a day inside historic Augusta National, and a round I could only dream about until Monday. And I'll dream of another one...when I'm again eligible to play the course in 2022.
I can wait that long, I guess.



















