| Augusta National: A holiday gift for the Monroes |
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The greens are unreal; they are fast, they are undulating
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| Mike, CD, and Harve Monroe at the Augusta National No. 18 (Photo by Rob) |
By Mike Monroe
MGA publicist
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| Mike Monroe |
Augusta is only two-and-a-half hours from here, but turning right on Magnolia Lane off Washington Road is a world away. Who would guess that my 22-year-old nephew could bridge that wide gap for my brother Harve and me.
A little nervous in the a.m.
Nerves were frayed at the Quality Inn on the morning of December 5, as we sat eating our stale biscuits: My brother Harve thought the waffle machine was for eggs, then he forgot about the toast and walked outside. I spilled my coffee and thought I lost my keys. He and I were in a trance.
Checking the weather had become our obsession as the day drew closer. The forecast called for a high in 40s with an 80 percent chance of rain on Friday. Our host Rob said we’d “play on.”
The sky turned partly cloudy by 9 a.m. as the three of us loaded my Tundra and waited for the right time to leave on our six-minute drive into Never-Never Land. We surely were not going to be tardy nor did not we want to arrive unfashionably early. We decided on a 9:55 a.m. arrival, so 20 miles-an-hour would assure us safe passage with no traffic violations as I carefully navigated our last hurdle.
I turned into a maintenance driveway 200 yards ahead of schedule. And as the camera was in the “movie mode” while driving on Magnolia Lane only a quick swerve avoided an ugly incident nearly destroying some carefully manicured flower beds.
Rob from Spartanburg met my nephew Cory, who is an Alaskan fishing guide at the New Halen Lodge in southwestern Alaska, in October, casting flies for salmon and rainbows. It seems Rob likes his fishing as much as his golf. As they drifted on some fabulous trout stream, Rob cordially invited CD (Cory) to visit and play Augusta National (the National).
I received the phone call from CD shortly after this. When CD said “I told Rob about my uncle in Big Canoe, Georgia, and that he might be able to pick me up and drive over” I went ballistic. I knew my years of training my godson had paid off big time. I also knew that my brother Harve must be a part of this epic event too.
Rob invited not only CD but both Harve and me. The Monroes were not going to pass up this odyssey. Rob learned later about our passion for this game. I wish my dad could have joined us too; after all he lit the fire that kindles our passion years ago. I booked CD’s frequent flyer ticket within minutes and the plans were laid out.
The atmosphere at the National is casual and cordial. Rob met us exactly at 9:55 and showed us to his locker. The locker room attendants joked about the “Tiger Situation” and Rob showed us a new machine that shakes and rattles your bones from your toes to the top of your head. He mentioned that we needed to relax on this vibrating monstrosity. Relax, heck, all I could think of was trying not to fall off the damn thing and sprain my ankle. “We have come so far—don’t blow it now.”
The range was not pretty
Rob asked if we wanted to hit some balls at the range. The caddies were there to meet us and help us get our nerves in order. There were some very ugly shots on that range. My brother is a six and Cory is an eight handicap but it looked like a few beginners blading, shanking, sculling and topping the new PRO V1’s from perfect lies into the greenery.
After a good laugh the three of us huddled and finally managed to get some eggs airborne. Rob asked us about first playing the short course then the big boy.
“Yes, Rob”
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| On the famous bridge leading to the signature No. 12 where both Cory and Harve made spectacular deuces. (Photo by Rob) |
The 4th hole on the short course produced a miracle. I hit an iron to the very back edge of a very long green, when the pin was, of course, on the front tier of three. And so the putt rolled and rolled down the tiers and finally right into the center of the cup—oh the tuning fork will be forgiven for past sins.
CD hit a perfect 9-iron on the 9th and last hole on the short course which hit and stuck in its own pitch mark. One of the caddies said it would have been a hole-in-one had it not stuck. To prove the point, CD touched the putt as if the hole was one inch in front of his ball, and sure enough, the ball rolled down the slope directly into the middle of the cup. I got lucky too, making a nice deuce on the last hole on the short course.
The Big Course
Rob asked us if we’d like a beer before we walked to the first tee on the big course. “Yes Rob” we all agreed that some hops and grain would settle us down. We all hit the fairway on No.1 somehow and all made bogey. The sun was now shining without a cloud in the sky as the three of us walked with silly grins down Tea Olive (No.1).
The greens are unreal; they are fast, they are undulating and they are severe. They take no prisoners. Just hit ‘em where the caddy tells you no matter how absurd it may appear.
(Another) bird on No. 10
The front nine ended without too many calamities with Amen Corner staring us in the face. Linda Hunt told me all about No. 10 as she played in a tourney at the National years ago. I smacked my best drive of the day and watched as the ball curved slightly right to left and rolled a good portion down the slanted fairway towards the green. The 6-iron was a thing of beauty although I was certain it landed in the trap on the right. Reaching the green, I notice a ball about seven feet to the right of the pin and couldn’t believe that Pro V was mine. Harve nearly canned his 40-footer for a bird and after some consultation with my caddie I sank the downhiller. That one is for you Ms. Hunt: birdie on No.10.
Harve and CD both hit nice 8-irons into the signature par three, No.12. Harve calmly rolled his 15-footer into the cup and minutes later CD did the same. They will never forget that moment nor will I. And when Harve rolled in a 10-foot birdie on No.13 he was on top of the world. Then he had to start recanting how the back nine could have been two under or three under etc. etc. I think mentally Harve has the course record on the back nine; he could have destroyed the ghostly memories of Greg Norman!
But the National is not always kind and we all knew that troubles would lie ahead. After many bogies and a couple of doubles it was time to walk up the 18th. We did not want this day to end as Rob asked us to hit from the back tees on No. 18 to see what the big boys do in April at the Masters. And it is a monster. Requiring a precision mammoth shot to an uphill fairway, this baby has been stretched out.
Chowder and cold beer at the clubhouse
We finished and I noticed how everyone, players and caddies alike, truly does remove their hats upon completion. You just have to. Rob shot a brilliant 75; Harve an 83, CD 85 and I had a respectable 89. Rob invited us in to the clubhouse for a beer and a cup of soup. “Rob yes, we’d love that!” Delicious chowder and cold beer watching the SEC Championship in the clubhouse of the National (no yelling please). Imagine that.
Rob asked us if we wanted to tour the clubhouse and the Champions locker room. Did I mention earlier that we only said “Yes” to Rob? The Pro Shop too? “Yes Rob, great.”
It was day to recount for the silly things that occurred. The laughter was endless. The cajoling actually carried an air of etiquette far from the normal chiding that the three of us find as commonplace. And for the novelty of playing America’s finest golf course: sheer gratitude.
Next time you see me, if you have an extra hour, ask me about that day. I know it snowed here in Big Canoe on December 5. But the sun was shining at the National on three very lucky golfers who will have memories to last a lifetime. Thank you Rob; thank you CD. Harve, you and I have always been a little luckier than we deserve. I still need three a side.
Hats off if you mean it.
| Big Canoe Living Photo Gallery March 2010 |
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