Swing Talk May Edition
By Rich Carr, PGA Professional
My Masters Memories
NOTE: Originally, this was a blog in which I was going to write about “my take” on the Masters. Here is what I wrote and I think the lesson contained in the below paragraphs is better than any golf tip I could explain.
When the grass starts to turn green, golfers inevitably start to think about the Masters. I know that this is a truism in the Carr household. As a teenager, I can remember waiting for April and knowing that on that special “Masters Sunday” I would be sitting alongside my father to watch the final round. I married and now I sit alongside my bride to watch the last day of the most magnificent four days in April. In the span of time from teenager to husband, there have been changes to Augusta. I can remember all of the unbelievable finishes that the Augusta layout produced when I was a teen. The ’86 Masters (Nicklaus) is etched in my memory forever. Do I remember Ballesteros smothering a 4 iron on #15 to hand the green jacket to Jack? Or was it the putt the golden bear made on #15 for eagle? It was neither one of these; rather it was the special opportunity I had to witness these moments with my father. Surely you remember Greg Norman squandering a six shot lead to Nick Faldo. Any viewer could see the green jacket being slowly taken away from the sharks grasp. It was a hard Masters to watch that year, and it was the last Masters I watched with my father. He passed away the following year, a few months before Tiger’s historic victory. Four months after Tigers 1st victory, Deb and I got married. The Masters memories continue. We watch the final round and it’s rarely the golf that is remembered. What I remember are the things that we, as husband and wife were struggling through or celebrating in that particular year. As a CPA, the Masters comes at a difficult time for Deb. However, each year she finds the time to watch the final round with me and we wind up talking about something totally unrelated to the Masters. The sacrifice she makes just to watch that round of golf with me is a tribute to her character (and patience!!). But, and I know she wouldn’t mind me saying, it’s not the same Masters without my father sitting next to me. So, those of you who still can, sit down with your father or son on that Sunday. You may be surprised what type of memory it produces. I took those Sundays for granted as a teenager. What I wouldn’t give for just one more……
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