The Masters

So I got to sit down and take in the final round of the Masters, the most hallowed tournament in American Golf (note I'm throwing a bone to The Open or The Championship, whatever they call the British Open). If this were any other sporting event, the Commissioner would be scrambling with his staff this morning to figure out how to change the rules or the course to make the final round more palatable.

It was, in a word, awful.

There was Tiger Woods, lurking way back to start the day yet with only a few pretenders to the throne between him and leader Trevor Immelman. We were provided the entire round to view rather than the final nine holes as had been broadcasted for years. And the entire field fell by the wayside throughout the day.

CBS did us no favors due probably to the restrictions August National places on them to broadcast the Masters. I assumed it was the wind combined with the hardened greens and newfound length that beat these players about the head continuously, but it was difficult to really get a good gauge on what exactly was going on out there. It's not as if anyone who has played golf could not sympathize with what every player was going through.

It just became a NASCAR race with literally the wheels coming off the entire racing field.

And what of Tiger? None of his major victories have been of the come-from-behind variety. Would Jack Nicklaus have overtaken the field yesterday? Would Nick Faldo have snatched a green jacket from Immelman? Heck, we would have watched Chris Evert among the patrons this week if new hubby Greg Norman would have led this field on a Sunday.

The frustration was really all the short putts that were missed yesterday rather than the irons that went askew. One guy missing these short putts is fine. Me missing these putts last week is understood. But all of the chasers pulling and pushing five footers?

One word will come to mind when I think of the 2008 Masters.

Yuck!