My books can be purchased as e-books for only $1.99. If interested, just click here: Books.
Match Play is a golf/suspense novel. Dust of Autumn is a bloody one set in upstate New York. Prairie View is set in South Dakota, with a final scene atop Rattlesnake Butte. Life in the Arbor is a children's book about Rollie Rabbit and his friends (on about a fourth grade level). The Black Widow involves an elaborate extortion scheme. Doggy-Dog World is my memoir. And ES3 is a description of my method for examining English sentence structure.
In case anyone is interested in any of my past posts, an archive list can be found at the bottom of this page.
My newest novel, Happy Valley, can be found here.

Saturday, April 20

The Masters Redux

It’s been almost a week since the conclusion of the 2013 Masters. Congrats to Adam Scott for a fine and exciting end to this most widely watched golf tournament in the world. Aside from winners and losers, though, I have a few Masters impressions I’d like to share. Every spring I look forward to this tournament, as do millions of other golf fans around the world. I know most of the holes intimately from nearly sixty years of watching the shots made or missed by the various competitors over those six decades. I remember strange Curtis Strange’s errors on the back nine on Sunday in 1985 when he hit into Ray’s Creek in front of the par-5 thirteenth and then into the pond fronting the par-5 fifteenth, shots that cost him a green jacket that year. I can still see Fred Couples’ shot on the par-3 twelfth that hit just below the green and should have rolled back into the pond but instead somehow hung up on that slope and allowed him to get his par and go on to win the 1992 Masters. I remember the dance Larry Mize did in 1987 after holing that impossible pitch from the wrong side of number eleven, the second playoff hole against poor Greg Norman. In 1986 I remember weeping as Jack Nicklaus eagled fifteen and then nearly hit it into the hole on sixteen to win that improbable sixth green jacket at the age of 46. All of us have now seen over and over again Tiger’s chip on sixteen that went up the slope and then back down to hang on the lip and then topple in for a birdie that let him win in 2005. How could I forget Scott Hoch’s disastrous miss of that two-footer to win the 1989 Masters, instead allowing Nick Faldo to beat him on the second playoff hole. Will any of us ever forget "the drop?"

I thought it would be entertaining to use my translating app to put what I wrote above into German. Here it is: Es ist schon fast eine Woche her, seit dem Abschluss der 2013 Masters. Herzlichen Glückwunsch an Adam Scott für eine feine und spannende Ende dieser meistbeachteten Golfturnier der Welt. Abgesehen von Gewinnern und Verlierern, obwohl, ich habe ein paar Eindrücke Masters Ich mag zu teilen würde. Jedes Frühjahr freue ich mich auf dieses Turnier, wie Millionen von anderen Golf-Fans auf der ganzen Welt zu tun. Ich weiß, die meisten Löcher innig von fast sechzig Jahren beobachten die Aufnahmen gemacht oder von den verschiedenen Wettbewerbern über diesen sechs Jahrzehnten verpasst. Ich erinnere mich seltsam Curtis Strange Fehler auf der Rückseite neun am Sonntag im Jahr 1985, als er in Rays Creek treffen vor dem Par-5 dreizehnten und dann in den Teich Frontmann der Par-5 fünfzehnten, Schüsse, die ihn kosten eine grüne Jacke in diesem Jahr. Ich sehe noch Fred Couples 'Schuss auf dem Par-3 zwölfte, die knapp unterhalb der grünen getroffen und sollte wieder in den Teich gerollt haben, sondern irgendwie auf diesem Hang hing und erlaubte ihm, seine par bekommen und gehen auf die 1992 zu gewinnen Masters. Ich erinnere mich an den Tanz Larry Mize im Jahr 1987 tat, nachdem holing das unmöglich Tonhöhe von der falschen Seite der Nummer elf, die zweite Playoff-Loch gegen schlechte Greg Norman. 1986 Ich erinnere mich weinend wie Jack Nicklaus eagled fünfzehn und dann traf es fast in das Loch auf sechzehn, dass unwahrscheinlich sechsten grünen Jacke im Alter von 46 zu gewinnen. Alle von uns haben jetzt immer und immer wieder Tiger-Chip auf sechzehn, die aufgestiegen den Hang und dann wieder nach unten, um auf die Lippe hängen und dann stürzen in ein Birdie, das ihn im Jahr 2005 gewinnen wir gesehen. Wie konnte ich das vergessen Scott Hoch desaströsen Miss dieser zwei-footer, die 1989 Meister zu gewinnen, so dass Nick Faldo statt, um ihn auf der zweiten Playoff-Loch schlagen. Will keiner von uns je vergessen "das Dropdown?"

Lots of images, lots of memories. Until about the last twenty years, none of us tv viewers were able to (allowed to?) see any of the front nine. I know, I know, they weren’t then set up to televise those holes. But I always felt that the Augusta National bigwigs didn’t really want to share with the riffraff all of its secrets, didn’t want us to see any more than the last nine of their hallowed eighteen holes. This is a very elitist bunch who run the club. Even the CBS commentators all seem to reverentially bow and scrape as they report the play—Jim Nantz in honey tones regaling us with the many Augustan traditions, showing us numerous slow pans of flowerbeds bursting with Georgia flora, giving us gorgeous views of hand-trimmed fairways and greens, putting us to sleep with too many interviews of past and present players, too many flashback examinations of Masters memorabilia. And, oh my, if any of you CBS people have the audacity to laugh, even chuckle, at any of the Augusta National elements, beware. Jack Whitaker, in 1966, found out the hard way that one must not refer to the people surrounding a green as a “mob scene.” Goodbye, Jack. Gary McCord, in 1994, got his boot from the grounds by saying the Augusta greens looked “bikini waxed.” So long, Gary. It’s been good to know ya. Both were instructed never again to darken the hallowed halls of Augustan ivy. I’ll go on every year watching every minute of the coverage, every stroke of every player they choose to show. I’ll still thrill with the drama that takes place on that famous back nine on every concluding Sunday. But I’ll also still feel that pompous air exuding from this exclusionist band of men in green as they “allow” us to watch their tournament.
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