A Player at the Masters

Forgive me, but I'm in the post-major-championship-euphoria of the typical golf fan. I love golf in general: I've drilled myself into the ground with frustration trying to play it, I search online for all the random merchandise connected with it and I completely buy into all the "honorable" hype about one of the world's oldest past times.

On a typical weekend, though, there's little chance that you'll find me sitting down to watch a golf tournament. They are really fun in person, and I've even spent the day with my father marshaling at one and had a great time, but it's a little tedious watching a series of mid-level golfers shoot 40 under par while the best players in the world practice at their home courses and look forward to the next major; this is what tournaments like the Greater Milwaukee Open or Hartford's Travelers Championship tend to be like.

Then the majors come around. When the Masters, US Open, British Open (challenging because of the time change) and PGA Championship are being played, I could watch every second of coverage and recap and not feel a moment of impatience. The best players on the biggest stage, every one of whom would leave every bit of themselves on the course in order to win (we all remember Tiger's pained steps around last year's US Open course).

This Masters' weekend was fantastic. Sure, there were a few things we might have liked to change. If Disney producers had been writing the script, Mickleson and Woods would've played in the final playoff with Kenny Perry (or some other likable underdog). Of course, Perry (or whatever amiable anti-hero was put in his place) would triumph and earn the respect of his superstar competitors and the undying love of the fan galleries.

That didn't happen, but we did have some great drama. Tiger and Phil did make an incredible charge; watching their round was four hours of tedious excitement. Each man clearly wanted to make something happen with every single shot and in many cases they did. Once their round ended, the air did seem to deflate from the course, but that doesn't take an ounce away from how great the finish actually was. The playoff featured three lovable also-rans (Cabrera was the 2007 US Open Champion, but most non-golf fans wouldn't be able to pick him out of a police line-up).

Cabrera won, robbing us of the "oldest player to win a major" storyline offered by Kenny Perry and the "baby face wins first major" possibility of Chad Campbell. Though it wasn't the best soundbite, his victory was impressive. He hit his ball off a tree on the first playoff hole and rallied to win. I have a lot of personal experience hitting trees on golf courses. I can't remember a time when I've ever rebounded from such an event to make par and would've deflated like a leaky blimp if I'd done it on the 19th hole at the Masters on Sunday.

So hats off to Cabrera. But for me, the moment of the week was actually on Friday afternoon. Gary Player, who won the tournament three times and played in it more than FIFTY, walked up the 18th hole for the last time. The 74 year old South African was 14 strokes above the cut line and wouldn't be playing in the weekend excitement.

As he approached the final green for the last time, Player was amiably chatting with playing partner Stephen Ames. Ames is hardly a superstar, but finished in the top 20 at the tournament and has a name a golf fan would recognize. He and the legend were laughing together as they came within 30 yards of the green, when a magical thing happened: Ames patted Player on the back and stopped walking.

I know that the whole "golf-as-honorable-exercise" thing can get a little nauseating--Jim Nance always overdoes it when he covers the Masters--but you've just got to love a moment like this. There were no stage directions, ceremonies or tv time outs, just the simple gesture of a young player towards the Player, who was allowed to take the magical walk all by himself.

As he entered the green, there was no doubt to whom the standing ovation of the immense 18th green gallery was directed. Gary Player, a humble and spiritual man, briefly got to his knees and clasped his hands together before finishing his round and his Masters Career.

I'll take my lesson from Ames for the week. Let's all take a moment to find a way to honor those around us. There may not be cheering galleries or half-century long championship careers to celebrate, but it's a great gesture to let the other guy walk onto the green alone.