AUGUSTA — Dreams came true Monday. And, as is the case often with dreams, they were ended by an irritating alarm.
Shortly before 11:30 a.m., a siren blasted across the manicured grounds of Augusta National Golf Club. It was followed by an announcement that, for all of the good folks making their pilgrimage to the Masters, their stay in golf heaven was about to come to a premature close.
“Attention, please,” it began, pausing every few words to let the echoes reverberate across the course (they really do think of everything here). “There are thunderstorms approaching the area with heavy rains and lightning. Play has been suspended and we ask that everyone exit through the ticket gate and seek shelter accordingly.”
The course had opened to fans only 3½ hours earlier. Most had arrived later than that. Because of the drizzle, only a few players were even on the course for the Monday practice round.
And just about all of the tens of thousands spread across the course reacted similarly to Cass Davies, who had traveled from Wyoming with his dad Tim to make their first visit to the Masters.
“You’re like, ‘Dang it!‘” he said.
Rain fell, lightning loomed and a bummer of a day came to a close. No one outside the club knows for sure how many fans (patrons, if you prefer the club’s fancy terminology) attend the Masters each day, but it’s been estimated that practice rounds draw as many as 50,000 per day.
No small amount of them are fans who’ve long wished to see the event and course in person for decades, finally gaining access by winning badges in the club’s lottery. Most often, it’s for a practice round and one day only. For the masses who don’t have a connection to badges and aren’t willing to shell out the hundreds that they can go for on the secondary market – practice-round tickets are $100 each, but can go for $2,000 or more on the secondary market – it can be the only way in and a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
I met two buddies from Ontario who’d been applying annually since they were 18. One of them had finally gotten in at 38.
The image we hold in our minds for a visit to the Masters is a glorious, memorable day — sunny skies, warm temperatures, gentle breezes, the azaleas in full bloom, walking the perfectly manicured course that is so much more vibrant and green than what we see on television, stockpiling merchandise at the gift shop, nibbling on a pimiento cheese sandwich, taking pictures at Amen Corner, slowly walking back to the car in the late afternoon as shadows and a golden sunset bathe the most famous golf course in the world.
No one imagines Monday — a gray, drizzly day with few players on the course and then finished before lunchtime.
It’s hardly the end of the world, and I had the privilege of chatting with someone who understands that better than most. But it was still kind of a bittersweet day.
“A little sad, a little disappointing,” said Vanessa Niehaus, a Cincinnati resident whose husband had won four tickets in the lottery. They were on their way off the grounds. “But it was fun.”
This was shortly after I’d spoken with Tim and Cass Davies, the father and son from Wyoming. Tim had gotten tickets through the lottery after years of trying. Going to the Masters was something he’d wanted to do since he’d taken up golf 35 years ago. It was a long wait and a long way to come for a rain-shortened day.
They had at least made it to famed Amen Corner. They were by the big oak tree in front of the clubhouse, milking the day for as much as it would allow.
I asked them how they felt.
“I feel like I want to be here longer, see more golf, see more golfers,” Cass said.
Not long after, a security guard came by and asked us if we were waiting for a member. We were not, so we were asked to move along.
The final stragglers came off the course maybe an hour after the initial announcement. I met a family lugging at least 12 bags of merchandise. They were lucky, and not only because they have badges for the tournament — the Bradleys of California and Texas were in line for the gift shop at the time the course-closing announcement was made. They were among the last to be let in, with many more behind them out of luck.
Imagine that Masters visit, particularly if you’d dropped a couple grand for your ticket.
How was the Masters?
I stood in the gift-shop line for an hour and then we had to leave. The parking lot was nice, though.
It proved not a complete loss. When the course was officially closed just before 3:30 p.m., the club announced that ticket costs would be refunded and that patrons would have the opportunity to purchase badges for the Monday practice round of the 2026 Masters.
We’ll close with Joe Martino, from Marshall, Texas. I met him at the driving range. He was here for the first time, having won two Monday badges through the lottery on his 13th try. He called it a bucket-list item.
In the stands behind the range, he sat next to his buddy David Kirkland. In front of them, Jordan Spieth and José María Olazábal leisurely fired rockets longer and truer than most of us could ever hope to hit once.
Martino, 73, was thankful to be there. Until the early Monday announcement that the course would open at 8 a.m., it was uncertain if it would open at all. He and Kirkland hadn’t even made it to the course, but Martino was already taken.
“It’s more spectacular than I thought it would be,” he said.
I asked him about the possibility that the day might be washed out. He held his palms up.
“You can’t control the weather,” he said. “You can’t be upset with Mother Nature if that’s what happens.”
Martino was here after undergoing back surgery last year. Knowing he’d soon be walking the hills of Augusta National was motivation to regain his health. Martino also is a cancer survivor.
“What the weather does is not a big concern,” he said.
Any experienced visitor to the Masters knows this much about the best spots to watch the tournament from: Perspective matters a lot.
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