Don’t judge me, but I spent a fair amount of the weekend watching the Masters.  I can be entertained watching golf on television partly because I can still do the Sunday Times crossword and not miss a shot.

But I’m left with a few questions.  First, the visor.  Can anyone explain the visor?  It’s not for sun protection; a visor has an SPF of 0.1.  It looks ridiculous. Spend the extra four dollars and buy the whole cap.

Then there’s Jim Nantz, the CBS announcer.  He treats it like the eighth wonder of the world, starting with his continuous network tagline:  “The Masters, a tradition unlike any other.”  What the hell does that mean?  Aren’t all traditions unlike other traditions?  “The Fourth of July, a tradition unlike Columbus Day.” 

Granted, the Masters thinks it’s got the corner on pomposity, but why feed that beast?  Sure, Gary McCord was kicked off the broadcast team a few years ago for saying a green was so fast it seemed to be bikini waxed.  Announcers aren’t allowed to refer to the fans as fans, or a crowd.  They are “patrons.”  The holes are marked by flagsticks, not pins and you better not make that mistake.  And no one can ever say anything about the prize money.  The prize is the cheap green sports coat.  They’re playing for the green jacket that looks like it’s off the rack at Walmart, not the $1.44 million check.  Yeah, I believe that.

But back to ever-so reverential Jim Nantz.  He does a painful little interview after the tournament in Butler Cabin where the jacket is handed out.  And he says to the winner (Bubba Watson for those who weren’t watching) that he knows how much it means to him to win the Masters on Easter Sunday.  Really?  Because there’s such a close tie between golf and Christianity?  I do know a lot of guys who play golf religiously every Sunday and invoke Jesus’ name while they’re doing it, but I don’t think that’s what Nantz was talking about. 

The U.S. Open always ends on Father’s Day and those announcers spend half the broadcast talking about how important it would have been to the winner’s father if he had been alive to see his multi-millionaire golf pro son win.  That makes some sense, though it’s also pretty cheesy, but why does winning a million and a half dollars on Easter have a psychic significance?

Later in the evening I checked on the Golf Channel long enough to hear one of their brilliant broadcasters say “who would have thought that a guy named Bubba would ever win the Masters.”  Augusta National didn’t admit a black member until 1990 and still doesn’t have a woman member.  Its current president is a 64 year old man named “Billy” and for the ten years before him, the place was run by a guy named “Hootie.”  My question is, why did it take so long for a guy named Bubba to win the Masters?