Phil Mickelson strikes a shot on the 13th hole. Photo: Rob Carr, Getty Images
Late last Friday afternoon as the light was dying in Amen Corner, I found myself in the bend of Augusta National’s famous 13th fairway that tilts and turns around the creek and the azaleas and may be the single best place in golf.
Bryson DeChambeau had hammered his tee shot over a forest and to within 130 yards of the par-5 green and about 25 of us were there to watch, knowing that the horn to stop play was a moment away.
There were no gallery ropes and, other than the rustling of feet, there was almost no noise. We had a darkening Amen Corner to ourselves.
It was the November Masters in its peculiar glory.
Undeniably different but as familiar as your own reflection in a mirror, it was a unique triumph, something that will be remembered for what it was rather than for what it wasn’t.
It’s unreasonable to think that the Masters or any other golf tournament will be back at full throttle by next spring but it’s fair to assume the leade...
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