There's not a lot of tradition left in the world these days. However there are two that are adhered to outside of each other but still bearing significant connection. One of them takes place over a four day period of the year, the other rolls along 365 of each and will continue on past our own demise. The four day one concerns myself where I plant my body on the couch and watch The Masters every year. The second are the members and ideals they embody in maintaining that magnificent place where there are still manners, civility, sportsmanship and good nature. Remove any of these two and my life would be significantly less bearable.
From my earliest recollections, even when I thought golf was a boring game I could never understand I used to watch the vivid greens and polite applause on TV, when commercial time came and the leader board was viewed, every year a subtle piano ditty trickled out of the speakers as the names flashed across the screen. I never thought about finding this song until this year while watching Phil go for it all yet again.
I began Googling the song on the internet and with the exception of youtube ran into barricade after barricade. I learned that it was written by Dave Loggins who was famous for such songs as Please Come to Boston and Nobody Loves Me Like You Do, I learned that CBS owned the rights and that CBS never let this dear ballad go. I say ballad because I found it odd that there were actual lyrics to this song:
Well, it's springtime in the valley on Magnolia Lane
It's the Augusta National and the master of the game
Who'll wear that green coat on Sunday afternoon?
Who'll walk the 18th fairway singing this tune?
Augusta, your dogwoods and pines
They play on my mind like a song
Augusta, it's you that I love
And it's you that I'll miss when I'm gone.
It's Watson, Byron Nelson, Demaret, Player and Snead
It's Amen Corner and it's Hogan's perfect swing
It's Sarazen's double eagle at the 15 in '35
And the spirit of Clifford Roberts that keeps it alive
Augusta, your dogwoods and pines
They play on my mind like a song
Augusta, it's you that I love
And it's you that I miss when I'm gone.
It's the legions of Arnie's Army and the Golden Bear's throngs
And the wooden-shafted legend of Bobby Jones.
One would suppose that if you were not a golfer then the words here are useless, if you don't know who Watson, Nelson, Snead and Arnie are, or why Amen Corner demands not only Hogan's but a perfect swing from anyone. However just as you do not know the names of the gentlemen strolling along in those green jackets that are given only to members and winners the listener has no need to know who they are, but rather to know that there is something pure and beautiful that has been for quite some time and continues to exist in today's modern fadish world.
Back to my searching I came across one copy of the song that was up for auction. I don't have a record player and while I didn't have the couple hundred dollars for the record I found a reason in my mind to but a bid in. I won and the next day had the old piece of vinyl twinkling through the speakers and into electronic format.
Now when the world gets crazy and life slips out of reach, now I can turn my four day a year tradition into a 365 day one without becoming one of those old grey-haired men who stroll through the dogwoods in the Georgia sweet air, walking over the bridge without clubs or caddy, concern or pretense but lost in thought and serenity while the troubles of life evade and the resplendent humanity of all of worldly tradition returns with the first note of an ivory and the scratching from an old '45.
