The Ultimate Experience

U.S. Masters tickets are almost impossible to get. It's universally known that the only ticket harder to get is the Superbowl. To give you an idea, just last year for the first time since 1972, tournament organizers released a small number of tickets, or as they are referred to in Masters terminology, “badges”. That's right, for over 40 years you could not buy a badge. But like any sporting ticket in the US they can be resold - legally - at the price market demands. At the time of print the average Thursday-Sunday badge on a leading ticket on-seller is USD 9,073.

CBS' Jim Nantz always introduces the Masters as “a tradition unlike any other.” Any golf nerd knows this but nothing can prepare you to see the heavenly grounds for the first time. The place is vast, enormous, and way more undulating than a television can provide in two-dimension.

The infrastructure for patrons is only comparable to Disneyland. Everything from the grand roman-style pillared entrance, merchandise for every conceivable need, even the restrooms just oozed class and grandeur unlike anything I'd ever experienced at a sporting event. At the door stood men and women in green jackets respectively calling up the next patrons in line. The greeters not only called you up, but also opened the doors and formally greeted you upon entering. It was impressive.

Sitting on the grounds of the majestic clubhouse were white tables with vintage green and white umbrellas, adding to the feel of strolling back in time. Directly in front of the clubhouse stood the historic first tee, where CBS has aired “ceremonial first shots” throughout the years from the legends of Nicklaus, Palmer, Player, Nelson, Sarazen, and Snead. While the hairs on my arms stood thinking about the immense level of history and heritage, I became surprised at the level of simplicity as I continued on the course.

The fairways and greens have always looked immaculate over the years on TV, but the actual fairways (species of grass is zoysia) and greens (A1 bent grass) were of an unreal color and texture. They were heavenly. Beautiful, mature loblolly pines stood on nearly every hole hovering over the fairways and greens protecting and guarding each hole. If only those pines could speak - what they must have seen over the years. Large, unforgiving pure white sand traps sat perfectly manicured, as they looked for their next victims. The greens themselves, simply levels of perfection, blemish free.