Sunday, April 08, 2007

I always cry at The Masters

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. And welcome back to Augusta National. As an unseasonably chilly breeze whips through the high Georgia pines, the world's greatest golfers face perhaps the sternest test. Of their entire lives. The azaleas still sparkle around Amen Corner, and Rae's Creek still shines as if holding a special secret, but these temperatures continue to wreak havoc on the golf scores, pushing them mercilessly into the black. But come what may, these heavenly grounds will see to it that the green jacket will again be donned, a new champion crowned, among the echoes of golfing past, that awake in the galleries, and rise from the grasses like old lovers. As the history, the tradition, the majesty, the history, the tradition, and the tradition of The Masters enters its final, glorious, magnificent, wondrous, spectacular, and wonderful day.

Hi once again, everybody, I'm Jim Nantz, alongside my partner Nick Faldo. Nick! We've heard a lot about how the cold is freezing the golf scores, but that may pale in comparison to the way Tiger's Saturday run is chilling the spines of his competitors.

Hi again, everybody, and happy Easter!

Nick Faldo: That was a nice pun, Jim.

Jim: Did you like that?

Nick: Aye, I did.

Jim: I wrote that at about two o'clock this morning. But you know, Nick, I don't want to talk about the cold anymore, as we sit cozy together like this in historic Butler Cabin. I want to ask you how well you know
this magnificent course.

Will any man ever truly win her?

Nick: Well, having won three Masters here, I...

Jim: No, Nick. Not know it in a golfing sense. I meant know it in the biblical sense. Isn't that appropo here on this Easter Sunday? With the absolute beauty of this course, with each hole having a special name, each more alluring than the last? Perhaps it is Golden Bell that strikes your fancy, as it glistens like a fresh-faced maiden! Or perhaps it is Flowering Crabapple, the hardened dame whom no man may ever tame! No matter your preference, haven't you ever had the urge to steal away in the night, find a green unchaperoned by her keepers, and make love to this, the loveliest place in all the galaxy?

Nick: What?

Jim: Well, me, too, Nick. For me, when it comes to loving The Masters, too much is truly not enough. Conventions be damned. So if you see a man recoil in horror as he retrieves his ball on fourteen -- Chinese Fir -- take notice. For perhaps the ghost of Jim Nantz lingers there. To comingle with the hallowed kings of the past. And truly, indeed, can I think of no greater honor, than to be among them now. But now, let's head out to the action, and Peter Osterhaus....Peter!

With 1 Round Left, It's All Over [Washington Post]
Augusta National Golf Club, Course Overview [Official Site]

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1 comment:

i.p. daily said...

Jim Nantz made a few soulful remarks during yesterday's final round of the Masters, equating the beauty and serenity of the course, mixed with the intensity of the tournament, to the miracle of Easter. They were pulling out whatever trick they had left in the announcing bag once it was apparent, when Woods was in trouble on 16, that Zach Johnson was going to walk away with the green jacket. I was just waiting for him to bust out with, "Zach Johnson's win over Tiger Woods is a miracle on par with the Easter miracle of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and his triumph on the cross over death. Oh, wait, I'm Jewish and this is Passsover."

Where is Fuzzy Zoeller when you need him?