Augusta National

Last month, I got the opportunity to go to a practice round at The Masters. Whether or not you play golf, Augusta National is a place of wonderment. For a lifetime, I’ve been mesmerized by images of these azalea-lined, immaculate fairways. But you can’t appreciate the perfection without seeing it in person. If golf were a religion, Augusta is the grand cathedral—the men who walk vie these green hills our Gods.

The Masters patrons worship here with a reverence seen and heard only in the quiet confines of a basilica. While I’ve attended many other PGA events that were more like parties where there happened to be golf, the spectators at Augusta are reserved, save for that special birdie or eagle roar that electrifies the grounds, and extremely polite. Maybe they are paying homage to the living history here. Or maybe they are just terrified of losing a truly priceless badge forever. Masters patrons also spend an enormous amount of money on merchandise. Augusta National brilliantly refuses to sell logoed merchandise anywhere but the seven days the event is held each year. As a result, the gift shops are continually filled with fans eager to part with $75 for the cheapest golf shirt or $30 for a hat.

For those who cannot get a badge to one of the four Master’s rounds, practice round tickets are almost as golden. For me, a practice round ticket is all the more valuable because cameras are permitted, albeit with lots of rules. Shooting sports photography from behind the ropes in the middle of the day is not exactly an easy task. Invariably, I was in the wrong spot. Despite coming home with only a few keepers, I had a blast and can’t wait to shoot, and worship, in American golf’s most spectacular cathedral again.

Augusta National

I spent Thursday and Friday in Augusta, Georgia at Augusta National, home of the The Masters. Augusta National is incredibly well manicured in a way that can only be understood by witnessing it in person. The dramatic elevation changes, the perfect fairways, the $2.50 Master’s club—yes, the sandwich, not a 3 iron—and the understated elegance of a place that oozes history and leaves the thousands of “patrons” awestruck, no matter how many times you’ve visited. The grounds of Augusta National are inspiring. But it is not the golf that was the greatest inspiration. Instead, The Masters reaffirmed another, more powerful passion.

Early Thursday morning, soon after settling into our official “Master’s” chairs near the #2 green, I spotted two photogs among the patrons less than fifty feet to my left. Both were shooting Nikon D3s on monopods, with the sun at their backs. One was shooting a 600mm, the other an 800mm. Very quickly, I realized that I was watching the players, who came through in groups of threes, and trying to compose my own images. And very quickly, I was jealous.
Like most PGA golf tournaments, The Masters enforces a strict “no camera” policy during the four rounds of play. Cameras are encouraged for practice rounds. But I wasn’t there for a practice round. What an ironic juxtaposition.

There were photo opportunities throughout both days I was there. It started with honorary starters Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer opening the tournament. The view of a dozen mowers cutting the fifteenth fairway in perfect synchronization was captivating. And the three turtles that crawled out of the pond and onto the bank just below the sixteenth green with no less than ten thousand cheering spectators surrounding them would have made a great shot, especially each time a wayward shot found the bank beside them. And at one point, Tiger Woods played a bunker shot with the flagstick framed perfectly in the foreground between us. It would have made a splendid shot—if I had a camera.

Passion seems to be a constant theme lately. Finding it must be priceless. Maybe in the same way we seek passion in relationships or careers, I see something beautiful, different, or dramatic, and I long for a camera in my hand. Most every golfer dreams of playing Augusta National just one time—and so do I. But I also dream of shooting this spectacular cathedral of golf as a credentialed photographer, free to roam these grounds seeking feed one of my greatest passions.

It Must Be Spring

After one last cold snap, complete with a hard frost, Spring seems to have the dreariness of winter in a stranglehold. What are the signs, you might ask? Perhaps they are not all that I could hope for, or not even what many might imagine. Nonetheless, signs are here.

Last Sunday, the Atlanta Braves started off the 2009 baseball season with a win over the Philadelphia Phillies. And Thursday, the roars of patrons filled the air once again at Augusta. If it’s Master week, it must also be Easter. And today, the University of Georgia once again managed a victory in their Spring Game.

On Wednesday, my latest photography purchase was delivered. No longer will I need to rent a Nikon 70-200, f2.8. And today, I had an opportunity to put this magnificent lens to work at an Easter Egg Hunt. Despite harsh sunlight, deep shadows, snapshot seeking parents, and kids swarming like sugar seeking sharks in full frenzy, I managed to capture a few nice shots that convinced me of the value of this lens. (entire set) Ruggedly built, tack sharp, and delivering beautifully smooth bokey, this is a serious lens.

In the deep South, the wonderful days of Spring are fleeting, giving way quickly to the uncomfortable and unceasing heat and humidity of Summer. So armed with a bit more photography hardware, I’m going to bask in the glow of Spring’s sunshine and seek out a few more shots like these.