Masters is missing its old spirit

AUGUSTA, Ga. | There was a brief moment at the Masters Thursday afternoon, a brief and fun moment when Tom Watson made back-to-back birdies, almost chipped in on the 14th hole, and even at age 58 looked like his swashbuckling old self.

“I was on a roll, wasn’t I?” Watson said with that familiar smile on his face.

Alas, the moment did not last. Watson hit the water at 15. He finished 3 over par. Still, those few moments were a reminder of what Thursday at the Masters used to feel like. It used to be about old men being young. That doesn’t happen much anymore.

Where did all the old men go? They used to be all over the Augusta. They helped make the Masters different, special. They connected us to the past.

People would come on Thursday so they could see Billy Casper golfing in his knickers. They could watch those legends Byron Nelson or Sam Snead sipping juleps on the veranda — I don’t know if they really sipped juleps, but you would see them out there. They would laugh at Lee Trevino’s hilarious routine. They would lift up their children to see Arnold Palmer hitch up his pants and wave to the crowd.

Most of all, they watched Jack Nicklaus, grinding and fighting for a victory he never doubted, no matter how much younger the kids around him looked.

“Deep down, Jack felt he still could contend if things broke right,” says Ian O’Connor, author of the fabulous new book, “Arnie & Jack: Palmer, Nicklaus and Golf’s Greatest Rivalry.” “Jack had to feel that way … Right up through his last appearance here, Jack gave himself a slight chance to win.”

O’Connor’s book is great because it reminds you how much fun and how ferocious golf used to be. That’s what you would see on Thursdays at Augusta. You would see these great and proud golfers battling for every stroke, aiming for the right spots, outsmarting the kids. It was beautiful.

It’s not like that anymore. It isn’t anybody’s fault, really. Time moves on. Thursday’s field looked an awful lot like every other golf field. A couple of old timers still hobble around. Gary Player played in his 51st Masters, a record. Arnold Palmer hit the ceremonial first shot. Tough old Ray Floyd plugged away.

But after that, the course was pretty barren of memories. Snead and Nelson are gone now. So is Gene Sarazen. Palmer has stopped playing for real. Nicklaus has stopped playing. Trevino and Hale Irwin never won here and so aren’t invited. Even the young guys, the memorable golfers of the PTE — Pre Tiger Era — were not playing. No Nick Faldo. No Seve Ballesteros. No Greg Norman. No Curtis Strange. No Nick Price. The field had a lot of Trevor Immelmans and John Rollins.

“It’s not the same,” Watson says. “I still like coming here. But no, it’s not like it used to be for me. It has changed a lot.”

Thursday felt a little empty. The Masters is fighting to keep its spirit. And it’s hard. Golf equipment has changed everything. Golfers now hit the ball so far, so high, it made the old Augusta National obsolete. The National folks lengthened and lengthened and lengthened. They added rough. They put flagsticks in attics and hidden closets. Thursday, they watered down the fairways so much that golf balls sunk in mud.

They want to keep scores down. They’re doing that. Unfortunately, they’re also boiling out some of the character and joy of the place. They’re disconnecting from the past. The old Augusta National was fast and loose and if you knew it well you could outmaneuver kids half your age. Who could forget 1966 and 1967, when a creaky old Ben Hogan went into Sunday just 2 shots off the lead? Who could forget 1998, when Nicklaus shot 33 on the front nine on Sunday and actually threatened to win the golf tournament?

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To reach Joe Posnanski, call 816-234-4361 or send e-mail to jposnanski@kcstar.com. For previous columns, go to KansasCity.com.