Welcome to the best comedown week of the year – Masters week. If you’ve clicked on this blog and have no idea what the title means, I’ll just get that out of the way.
I’ll be honest I’m not really a huge golf person. Like, sure, I’ll see every once in a while to see if LIV has fallen apart, or if Phil Mickelson has been killed by his bookie. Sometimes I’ll even see if they’ve caught Bryson Dechambeau for PEDs (that’s a joke that boy is just golf-yolked). Maybe I’ll take a peak in hopes Rory McIlroy has finally made a comeback (he hasn’t). Or see if Max Homa or Brooks Koepka have Zyn’ed their way into winning a tournament. But, realistically, I just never really pay attention to golf.
That all goes out the window after that first full week in April. Once the nets are cut down and One Shining Moment hits (shoutout to Elvin this year), all of a sudden I yearn for freshly manicured grass and pimento cheese sandwiches. The call of the “tradition unlike any other” fills my head like a dog telling me to assassinate the president. The Masters calls me like a siren, but instead of a sexy mermaid that’s going to eat me, I’ll be eaten up by the final round.
For some odd reason, and it must be the history and tradition, it’s just enthralling. Hearing Ray Charles serenade me with Georgia, and then getting touched by the velvety voice of Jim Nantz. Usually, the Masters marks the end of Jim Nantz week – the biggest week in all of commentating. But, this year, our only April taste comes from the Masters. I mean, that’s not fully right – because we got a little fix of him during March Madness. I’d like to point out UH is number 1 when it comes to collegiate basketball commentators. And I can tell you that first “Hello Friends” is going to hit like the first darty of Spring.
And I think the marketing this year has shown the shift golf is currently going through right now. I know there is a lot to be said about the youthful fratening of golf, but if that means we get some 80s pop as the Masters backing song, I can’t complain.
This entire blog stems from listening to Max Homa and Brooks Koepka this week. Listening to these guys gush over the Masters and everything in entails just fires you up. I remember watching in 2021 after vigorously trying to finish a law school assignment I had almost a month and a half to work on. Instead, I waited until the last day, which just so happened to align with Hideki Mastuyama being chased by Will Zalatoris and Xander Schauffele. All I learned that day is that I can golf rocks and I can still do assignments the day they’re due and get an A- in the class.
On top of all that, the food calls me. My grandfather used to take me golfing as a kid (I was and still am horrible. Except I can kind of kill it with a 5 iron, especially on the Angry Birds Topgolf game). I mentioned the pimento cheese sandwiches, but the chips and the cookies that look stale but kind of rock just bring me back to that fervor as a kid getting to just blast it on a ball. It’s old rich white guy food, but it just works.
And the Masters dinner always intrigues me, as a guy who has watched every episode of Chef’s Table on Netflix. I’d like to say that Jon Rahm looks like he killed it.
I will say I still think Jordan Speith and Matsuyama had the best in recent years. Miso wins me over very easily.
So, with all that said, welcome to the best golf week of the year. I’d like to thank my computer for all the hard work it is about to put in with some very sketchy sites. Anyway, I’m going to watch Tiger win again.
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