2008 Woodie Awards
Commentary: A tradition unlike any other, and let's keep it that way
Jason Tomassini
Issue date: 4/10/07 Section: Sports
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It is lucky golf is one of my favorite sports, it is lucky I am half-decent at it and it is lucky The Masters is one of my favorite weekends of the year. Because for all of the sappy, dramatic dweebery I have to put up with just to watch it, CBS probably should have lost a viewer by now.
From the floral names given to each of Augusta National's holes, to the broad, borderline-eerie smile from Jim Nantz in Butler Cabin at the Green Jacket Ceremony every year, The Masters has cemented itself as the most pretentious event in sports. The fact that I have to capitalize "Green," "Jacket," and "Ceremony," should be proof enough of that.
I understand The Masters is, according to CBS, a "tradition unlike any other," but every tradition is unlike any other, that's what makes it a tradition - it is different from everything else. The Super Bowl is a tradition unlike any other, so is the World Series. Maybe if there were another golf tournament at Augusta National with the best players in the world called "Screw You, This Is The Masters," I could see a reason for CBS pointing it out.
After more than 70 years of the tournament that America loves so much, it should be time for CBS to stop acting like The Masters is some ballet that viewers are privileged to watch. Sure, no matter how it covers the event, CBS is going to get the same ratings, but for us college students who will be watching this tournament for the next 40 years, it's time to tone it down.
I recently found an interview of Jim Nantz conducted before last year's Masters. Even off camera he oozes with sappy, dramatic language. During the interview, it quickly becomes evident there is a reason why Robert Frost did not become a golf announcer, and there is a reason Jim Nantz is not a published poet.
When asked what he first saw at this year's Masters, Nantz's words rivaled Shakespeare's… well, maybe dinner-theater Shakespeare.
The first swing I saw was Ernie Els on the tee at the fourth hole. I was on my way to 15 and detoured over to see Ernie launch a two-iron that seemed to hang in the air for about 45 seconds. Draped against the sky, falling just beyond the flagstick. Effortless, like everything else he does.
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