Can You Hear Me Now?

Each Easter several disturbing traditions arrive as the painted eggs roll onto the lawns. Some overly competitive adults actually try to hide the eggs in places impossible for small children to see or reach. Seriously? Your own sports dreams fizzled out so you are going to compensate by "beating" a child in an Easter egg hunt. A couch and a therapist await you. Adults also  purchase fragile little chicks and furry little bunnies to pose with caffeinated/medicated children in sugar-induced comas. They also present these innocent creatures as gifts in baskets with pink and green plastic grass. The animals have done nothing to provoke such cruelty and yet they are sacrificed for the momentary pleasure of the youngsters. The curiousity and fascination with the springtime creatures passes quickly as the tikes realize that the animals are unarmed and do not transform into any sort of weapon. Meanwhile another sacrifice is taking place at the hands of children and adults alike. Chocolate bunnies are suffering the painful and inexplicable loss of their ears. Poachers disguised as family members clad in pastels,casually rip the ears from the defenseless hares. Once the ear removal is complete,the bunnies have no chance of hearing the predators when they return for round two. Other bunnies try in vain to warn them but they cannot hear the alarms. It is a sad thing to see. A basket with a few cracked colorful eggs,cushioned by totally unrealistic plastic grass of many colors,surrounded by an earless chocolate rabbit and a few peeps. Ending this madness begins with each of us. There are enough peanut butter and chocolate eggs for us all. Let the bunnies live. We can hear their joyful hippity hop hop hop. But can they? Can they?

This is The Masters

One of the blessings in my life is the opportunity I have had to attend the Masters Golf Tournament at the Augusta National in Augusta,Georgia. My first visit was over twenty-five years ago in 1985,the year that Bernhard Langer of Germany won. That was back before he used the long putter that he uses today. That same style of long putter almost helped Adam Scott of Australia to victory this year. Almost. It was so close for Adam and Jason Day and Rory McIlroy and Fred Couples and Tiger Woods and so many others. To use ABC Sports broadcaster Jim McKay's line: The Augusta National is where you witness "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." But I must say that I have never seen such a congenial group of competitors as that dozen or so who exited the 18th green knowing that victory had been just out of their grasp. It makes you even more eager for next year's tournament. The mental game between the golfers and the greens. The relationships between the golfers and their caddies. The decisions on whether to play it safe and lay up or take a risk and go for it. The approach shots that take inexplicable turns into the galleries or cart paths. The drives off the tees that zip past seemingly breaking the sound barrier. The putts that appear destined for the hole that rim out one side. The putts that seem on a hopeless epic journey across a lengthy green that somehow find their way all the way into the hole to the thrill of the golfer and gallery. This is The Masters. Golf patrons,for the most part,feel the thrill and the agony right along with the golfers. You leave the grounds emotionally spent. You are exhausted. You need a massage. You need to talk to your therapist. It was so unfair. Or it was wonderful. Or it was both. Seeing Mr. Carl Jackson caddying at the Masters Tournament for the 50th year was an honor. He was caddying,as usual,for Ben Crenshaw and they make such a humble classy pair. Seeing 19 year old Hideki Matsuyama of Japan competing as the first Japanese amateur in the Masters was an honor. It was his dream to play there but he struggled with whether or not to fulfill his dream after the recent earthquake and tsunami. (He is a freshman at Tohoku Fukushi University in Sendai. The Miyagi prefecture suffered the greatest human loss. Sendai is the capital.) This is the Masters. Watching Arnold Palmer,Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player delight the crowds with their enthusiastic play in the Par 3 tournament was an honor. These gentlemen are golf. You are watching history. You are watching legends. This is the Masters. Magnolia Lane. Pimento Cheese sandwiches. The clubhouse. The Eisenhower Cabin. The bunkers. The greens. The fairways. The Butler Cabin. The azaleas. The dogwoods. The scoreboard. The roars. The applause. The laughs. The ever-changing leader board. This is the Masters. Three-time Masters champ Phil Mickelson handed over the green jacket to Charl Schwartzel of South Africa on Sunday. But before he did that, well he competed in the tournament and defended his title. But before he did that, he honored Seve Ballesteros of Spain at the champions dinner. As the defending champion, Mickelson was able to dictate the menu and he ordered a Spanish-themed menu to honor two-time Masters champ Ballesteros, who is battling brain cancer and was too ill to attend. Classy gesture. This is the Masters. Davis Love was there this year. Geoff Ogilvy. Bubba Watson. Tom Watson. Zach Johnson. Jose Maria Olazabal. Craig Stadler. Larry Mize. Trevor Immelman. Tommy Aaron. Raymond Floyd. Hubert Green. Fuzzy Zoeller. Luke Donald. Angel Cabrera. K.J. Choi. Jim Furyk. Sergio Garcia. Lee Westwood. Bill Haas. Retief Goosen. Edoardo and Francesco Molinari. So many others.. So many nations. So many family and friends from all over the globe. This is the Masters. Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts and Byron Nelson and Sam Snead and Ben Hogan were there too. You could feel their spirits in the breeze. You could hear them whispering up in the tall pines. You could sense them in the swelling anticipation of the putts and the the resulting roars from the patrons. This was the 75th Masters Golf Tournament. That electricity and comraderie happen each and every year. This is The Masters.