White Dogwood

Our Masters experience drew to a close last night. We managed to stay awake to watch it all which was quite a feat. Overall, the experience was a bit poor. Pear-shaped, as they say. It felt quite strange to be watching the Masters in the dark of the late evening and night. The glorious green of Augusta inspires thoughts of spring and is best appreciated while surrounded by fresh air and sunshine.

The television coverage was also strange. We mistakenly thought that the BBC was picking up the CBS feed and that all would be as it should. Boy, were we wrong. There was nothing familiar about the broadcast that we saw. We missed all the lovely Masters music and the tour of the course overhead. There was no Jim Nantz, or Lanny Watkins; instead we had Peter Alliss and Gary Linnaeker.

The commentators were blatant in their disapproval of American players and their support for all European players. Every suspect shot by Tiger Woods was critiqued as poor and ill advised, while every shot by Justin Rose, even when clearly off target, was seen as a move by him to charge into the lead. They contended until the last breath that the victory was inches away from his grasp. The pinnacle of this British favoritism was at the end when the Green Jacket was awarded to Zach Johnson by Phil Mickleson and when the camera feed returned to Gary and his other commentators on the green at the 18th hole they were laughing and snikering at the scenes from Butler cabin. The nerve!! Cheeky English bastards.