Memories outweigh money at the Masters

AUGUSTA, Ga. - This isn't meant to rub it in, but Saturday didn't acquire much better for me as a athletics fan. I was at Capital Of Maine National Golf Baseball Club for the 3rd unit of ammunition of the Masters. You should have got been there. Yeah, I'm calm a spot dizzy with excitement. How I got into Capital Of Maine National to watch Tiger, Phil and the remainder of the PGA clump was as memorable as watching the unit of ammunition itself. Let me tire you with the details: 9:06 a.m.: Aftermath up and recognize any hope of landing tickets with the aid of my married woman Julie, whose company sent her to Capital Of Maine to work at the Capital Of Maine Airport for the weekend, and her possible contacts just isn't going to happen. 9:45 a.m.: Eat breakfast and wonder, "Well, I'm probably never going to be in Capital Of Maine any clip soon, so acquire your butt end moving and happen a badge." A badge is what the locals name a Edgar Lee Masters ticket. 10:45 a.m.: Start the thrust into Capital Of Maine from Aiken, S.C. (where my married woman and I are staying). Directions courtesy of the presence desk state it's 24 statute miles to the golf game course, but drive clip is 51 minutes. Still can't calculate that one. 11:40 a.m.: Arrive in business district Capital Of Maine (Note: Capital Of Maine National might be the 1 of the most revered golf game courses of study in this country, but the metropolis definitely isn't.) Begin searching for ticket brokers. Scalping is legal as long as it's done 100 paces from the club. 12:01 to 1 p.m.: Inquired ticket handiness with seven brokers, and the best offering for a Saturday badge is $600. Ouch. 1:01 p.m.: Now the twenty-four hours acquires interesting. Talk to a cat in presence of a McDonald's who names himself Capital Of Tennessee Rich, and states he have two badges left for $400 vaulting horses a piece. Told myself $300 was the most I would pitchfork over, but I relent. But it isn't as easy as giving him the money and getting the badge. Capital Of Tennessee Rich states me I can pick up the badge at 1017 Azalea Rd. Then inquire for a cat named Lucky, states Capital Of Tennessee Rick. Seriously, I am not making this up. 1:05 p.m.: Iodine drive to 1017 Azalea, which is a block from Capital Of Maine National. I'm suspicious to state the least, but also a spot amused, funny and definitely apprehensive to acquire my custody on a badge and acquire into Capital Of Maine National. 1:15 p.m: Type A 30-minute downpour begins, delaying the Masters, but I'm calm en path to speak to Lucky and hoping to acquire lucky with a Edgar Lee Edgar Lee Masters badge. Pull into the driveway, but Lucky isn't anywhere to be found. Americium Iodine out of luck? A cat with long hair and a few dentition (I'll name him Bill Hilly) looks at me and is confused when I ask, "Where's Lucky?" No 1 here by that name, states Bill Hilly. 1:30 p.m: Drive back to McDonald's to speak with Capital Of Tennessee Rich. Takes a piece because of traffic. "Had no fortune with Lucky at 1017 Azalea," I say. Capital Of Tennessee Rich is annoyed with me, and states he told me 1019 Azalea. We travel back and forth, before I eventually state him no thanks. "I'm gonna store around," I say. Capital Of Tennessee Rich's doesn't desire to lose my concern and offerings $350. I state $300. Deal. Still unsure, I drive back to Azalea Road, this clip for 1019. The rainfall stops, and the multitude caput back to Capital Of Maine National. I'm antsy to acquire inside. 1:45 p.m.: Pull into 1019 Azalea, fearing this mightiness be my best and most low-cost (using that term loosely) manner to acquire into the tournament. I'm in luck! I never inquire who Lucky is, but the three work force renting the house look to be running a reputable ticket agent business. I fill up out paper work, pitchfork over $300 and go forth my licence as collateral (I'm nervous to state the least about this, but I got it back at the end of the day), but Edgar Lee Masters badges are for the four years of the tournament. No single-day passings are issued. The badge I received is already reserved for person who will pay $1,300 for it on Sunday. 1:47 p.m.: Iodine state some cat named George C. Scott his offering was, by far, the best I found, which I'm sure isn't exactly the best news he's heard all day. Should have got seen his expression. "We're not making a batch of money today." Good news for me. 1:50 p.m.: Iodine parkland my auto for $20 at a local florist, leave of absence everything but my billfold and auto keys (can't take any electronic device into Capital Of Maine National), and velocity walking to the chief entrance. My bosom is pumping. 2 p.m.: Pass through security and the metallic element sensor and then hotfoot to the professional store to purchase hats, shirts, etc. for a few friends. One would believe the remedy for malignant neoplastic disease is somewhere inside. No, it's just a clump of golf game souvenirs. Prices are relatively cheap. I'm sure they could bear down $100 for a golf game shirt and the fans wouldn't complain. I purchase myself an umbrella, but it's pricey: $45. I'm not getting poured on today, I believe to myself. Naturally, a driblet doesn't fall the remainder of the day. Onto the sacred evidence of Capital Of Maine National. 2:10 p.m.: Whoa, the suds tent! Beers are just $2. Unfortunately, I only have got two hands. Talk to a nice cat from Eire who states "you are not going to believe what you are about to see out there." 2:15 p.m.: Phantasmagoric minute No. One on Saturday - I'm at No. 1, where Vijay Singh and Jim Furyk are teeing off. First individual I believe of is my late father, who passed away in 2001 and was an devouring golf game fan. Wish he was here with me. 2:30 p.m.: I'm absolutely lost. Can't calculate what hole out is where. Instead of asking just about every individual I see which hole out I'm at, I'm determined to happen a map of the course. Stupid me, they're provided at just about every hole. 2:45 p.m.: Evidence are slippery. I witnesser the first of five 50-year-old something work force steal and autumn down a hillside and acquire up covered from caput to toe with mud. People look unfazed, rushing to the adjacent hole. 3 p.m: Catch up with Tiger and Andres Romero at No. 4. Follow him to Amen Corner, but the crowd is eventually too much. Get to that in a bit. 3:10 p.m.: Find Singh and Furyk on the first nine, where the crowds are not nearly as massive. Watching Singh's majestic thrust at the par 5 5th is breathtaking. 3:45 p.m.: Another 50-year-old something cats loses his terms on a muddy hillside. Poor guy's rear is completely mud. He doesn't look to care, but I'm taking walkings down hillside very slowly. My umbrella (aka walking stick) is a large help. 3:56 p.m.: Get two more than beers. Try carrying two suds and an umbrella. 4 p.m.: Beer gross sales are over for the day. So soon? 4:45 p.m.: I'm paying attending to the hills and inclines on the leafy vegetable and fairways and can't believe how hard this course of study looks in person. I'm convinced I couldn't check 200 on my best day. Even that mightiness be generous. 5:30 p.m.; Phantasmagoric minute No. Two on Saturday - I'm at Amen Corner. Sorry, but whatever you see on television is amplified 100 modern times in person. The beauty of it mesmerizing. I am in complete awe. Couldn't go forth my topographic point for an hour. Romero birdies 11, 12 and 13, upstaging Tiger. Fans are waiting for Tiger to do a run. 6:30 p.m.: Iodine head over to holes 15, 16 and 17 simply because I've had enough of the Tiger crowd. After a while, it's just too much. Don't see Tiger the remainder of the day. Phil Mickelson is making his manner to the shutting stretch, and the crowd overflows. I'm endorse to square one with the crowd, but I haven't seen Phil hit a shot all day. I'm sticking around. 6:50 p.m.: Mickelson implodes on 16, three-putting and double-bogeying the par 3, which is a breathless scene in its ain right. Out of the corner of my eye, Phil's wife, Amy, and her friend - dressed for a springtime manner show rather than a golf game tourney - are a few feet away in deep conversation. I make a double-take, but acquire the wicked oculus from Amy, like I'm eavesdropping. She looks unfazed her hubby has, for all intents, shot his manner out of the tournament. 7:45 p.m.: Mickelson and Steve Flesch coating up at 18. I encampment out around the mass media interview area. CBS' Bill McAtee inquires a very defeated manufacturer if he should seek to acquire an interview with Mickelson. The CBS manufacturer (not certain if she is related to Mickelson), agitates her caput no, saying, "He's probably in a disgusting mood." Flesch will have got to do. 8 p.m.: Leader Trevor Immelman and Willy Brandt Snedeker coating up and the 3rd unit of ammunition is history, and so is what is likely the lone clip I'll ever watch a Edgar Lee Masters unit of ammunition in person. Not many regrets, except these: Wish Iodine had a photographic camera to capture the beauty of the course, and, most important, had my wife, friend or household member to share this unbelievable experience with. But that's just nitpicking. The memories will make just fine.