He won’t remember it. He was too young. But I’ll remember every single second of it, and that’s the whole point.

I’ve watched the Masters from a barstool, a hospital waiting room, and a recliner with a dog on my lap. The course never changes, and somehow that’s the whole point.

Every April, something happens at Augusta National that has nothing to do with birdies or bogeys. It’s the only place I know where the world actually gets quiet.