Scottie Scheffler swaps green for plaid
And a Masters wrap that's been hanging on like Mrs Scheffler
Scottie Scheffler finishes off another win at Hilton Head to extend his dominant run of PGA tour victories. Oh, and there was a Masters, too. This week, it was an eye-catching plaid number instead of staid green. Phil Collins said, "No Jacket Required," Scheffler thinks differently.
You don't need to hear about all the goings-on at Hilton Head. In short, Scottie Scheffler did it again. He's too good—too good at driving it long and straight, hitting irons that find their target like homing pigeons, and the short game keeps on getting better, Ya'll. I see he promotes a bank (Vertex). They'll be calling him for loans soon.
I wrote this Masters piece last week and ended up not posting. So, a week late, like Mrs Scheffler….
He won a second green jacket (who needs two!), some cash (well, plenty of it), and finally, validation as the best golfer in the world (we've all been asleep at the wheel, here). He also received a second lifetime membership to purgatory, that’s Augusta National purgatory.
I’d wager that Scottie Scheffler doesn't go to Augusta National much; he'd prefer a Dallas municipal over Georgia perfection. That's just my lob-sided view—born out of jealousy more than anything else!
Sure, I'd love to hit a golf ball like Scottie Scheffler, wear my green jacket to a neighbour's dinner party, buy the most expensive wine and drink it knowing there's a driver (wheels type) waiting outside. And the 'best player in the world' tag would also work. However, another lifetime Augusta National Golf Club membership would be a no-thanks. I like my golf courses on the rocks, not straight! But that’s just a lob-sided viewpoint.
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Yes, April means only one thing in golf: The Masters, golf's sole 'Invitational' Major, played annually at the Augusta National Golf Club (ANGC) in Georgia. The Masters is so beautifully predictable in its traditions and immaculate setting.
Or is it?"
Some will argue that predictability adds to its allure. Others, myself included, might say the predictability contributes to a staleness that will continue to alienate the Masters from the mainstream. I know where I stand.
What say you?
Before we get to this, there’s a broader question: LIV golf and/or the PGA Tour? Or the PGA Tour and/or LIV golf—golf's most divisive debate.
This tug-of-war hasn't gone away. Still, in this protected corner of Georgia, the persistent unsavoury rhetoric has ultimately given the Masters some much-needed credibility. Players from both sides, for the most part, will compete together this week. Talor Gooch and Dean Burmester (and others) might have different viewpoints! Although, in their defence, the Masters committee answers only to themselves.
For what it’s worth, I believe all golfers should be eligible for the Majors and Ryder Cup based on their Official World Golf Ranking (OWGR)—not what tour they play on.
However, despite calls from some of golf's biggest names to accelerate reunification, this split only made Masters viewing all the more compelling and, perhaps, a little more unpredictable—you see, this story has two sides!
I must mention the ANGC's propensity for overt suppression; take a look at the Champions dinner photo. Can anyone find Mr Phil Mickelson? He and Mr Garcia (LIV) are practically out of shot!
Also, the defending champion, Jon Rahm, who hosted Tuesday’s Champions dinner, took the LIV money in February. More than any other LIV player, Rahm would have been challenged by the whole 'money over matter' dilemma. It's not widely known that Rahm is a historian of the game. He understands and appreciates the importance of those who went before today's golfers; the inner demons must have taken some quietening for Rahm.
First, beautifully predictable:
Well, the unnerving straightness of Magnolia Lane and the flowers that bloom perfectly every year. Hand-operated scissors edge the lawns like a Wahl beard trimmer—this is something else. The dogwoods and azaleas dutifully stand to attention, promising never to fall, 47 different shades of green present everywhere you look, and caddies don white jumpsuits that paint them as inmates.
Emotional storylines are curated and presented daily, early morning TV in Australia with constant reminders of Greg Norman's (LIV) 1996 collapse to Nick Faldo (sorry, that's Sir Nick Faldo, who thought the Champions dinner was appalling), the over-hyped Amen corner.
The bafoons (members) that bellow, "Fore please, Tiger Woods driving, white male conservatives (committee) milking non-liberal narratives at every opportunity. Pimento cheese sandwiches, weather delays, amateurs that grow a pair and then slide off the leaderboard, and golfers who shouldn't be playing are still playing.
The par-three tournament, played on a mini-golf imitation, that stubbornly prevents its winner from doubling up with a green jacket. Patrons, who are discouraged from running, for fear of trampling grass, after the bafoons finally decide to open the gates. Where do you stop?
Predictable? Yes. It is beautiful in so many ways, yet equally as tedious.
So how could it be different? Lets try this:
Every player to park in the same lot, ditch the Champions-only space—and, there will be a first-come-first-served rule in place, if you have a late tee-time and have to park on the street, too bad, we’ll send down a green electric cart to get you up Magnolia lane.
The 47 shades of green, I agree on this; the green stuff has to stay; jackets and all.
Now there’s so many calamitous runner-up stories that I propose the bridesmaid’s be allowed to the Champions dinner, the only two stipulations are: first they eat on a separate table with the junior committee members, and second, they wash the dishes while the champs smoke cigars and drink cognac—the junior committee people will also be consigned to the kitchen.
The iconic Butler Cabin to be re-decorated by the internationally renowned artist, Banksy. (Read more about him here).
Sand coloured sand to is to be used when repairing divot’s. Caddies will be allowed to roll up their prison whites to the knee—’no show’ socks also allowed. Rules officials will be instructed to interpret the rules as they are written, not at the direction of the CBS production truck and Jim Nantz.
Patrons can run, they can openly squabble, and if required, they can pummel each other. Pummelling is a good thing; first-aid will be readily available. This, in my view, is likely the winner when it comes to change.
Now, April is the domain of pranks and ‘fools days’. With this in mind a plan is to be hatched where CBS anchor (for want of a better word) Jim Nantz is thrown a curve ball. As we know, Nantz takes great pride in his hair set-up, my plan is to hide the hairspray that travels with him everywhere, preferably right before the ‘Banksy’ Butler Cabin presentation.
Food trucks will be allowed on the property Thursday and Friday, then it will be stale Pimento cheese sandwiches on the weekend.
Friday evening, compulsory for all players that make the cut, there will be an annual dinner at the local Hooters restaurant, hosted by Mr John Daly. Mr Daly will have his normal curfew (lock-in) in place. Good luck to those who squeezed under the cut-line, and don’t be late for your tee-time.
Like the Waste Management caddie sprint, there will be a caddie swim-off on 16, the length of the pond. The swim-off is to be confined to Sunday's last group pairing.
At 12, we will have a floating table with patrons armed with Jim Beans and catapults designed to intercept balls as they fly overhead.
There you have it—the Masters, so beautifully unpredictable.
"See ya'll next April. Good night." Thank you, Sir Fred Ridley; you can now go back into cold storage with the rest of your cronies.
Ps. Mr Ridley was excellent throughout the week. Bravo.