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On Saturday at Augusta National, a frigid, fall Masters bankrupt out

Sat at the Masters did not call for short sleeves.

Stephen Denton

AUGUSTA, Ga. — Equally dusk came in, the immature people picking upward trash through the course were flipping over discarded cups and leaving petty mounds of ice behind. That ice will melt, eventually and overnight, of course. But it volition take a while. On this Sat in April, fall paid a visit to Augusta National.

The camera operators, some of them, were wearing fingerless gloves, and the back-of-the-house golf carts, taking the well-connected here and in that location, had their mobile, clear-plastic walls lining their carts. Information technology felt like autumn at the Masters.

In 2020, this tournament was played in mid-November, delayed past the pandemic. That volition never happen again, we all said. Well, it happened for a day, in the third round of this 2022 Masters.

Scottie Scheffler, your 54-hole leader, went around the class in a T-shirt, a golf shirt, a zippered-sweater with a turned-up neckband and a sleeveless belong. He stood for several long moments waiting to play his layup shot on fifteen, the iii-shot par-5, with his arms crossed over his breast, the international symbol for I'm cold. He played the shot, as he played many of his 71 shots, with the vest off, then put it back on once again to make the walk down the loma and toward the swimming. Those were the common cold spots, downward in the hollows.

The warmest spots on the grade were the histrion restrooms and the warmest spots in the clubhouse were in front of the gas fireplaces. The coldest spots on the form were the exposed 10th tee, high on a windswept colina, and the 12th tee, the lowest bespeak on the property. As nightfall came, you may have expected to run into a harvest moon, here on the Sat eve of this 86th Masters.

"It'due south a heavy wind," Will Zalatoris said.

"Information technology was common cold starting out," said Tiger Woods, who will perspire on the coldest of golf game days.

"When it'south a cold current of air it hits you more," Danny Willett said.

"Obviously information technology was windy," said Harold Varner III. "And it was common cold."

The pedals were falling off the azalea bushes, the white dogwoods and some of the pink ones, besides. Autumn had broken out, here at Augusta National.

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Equally the last twosome fabricated information technology through the course's four par-three holes, crews stepped in to fill the divot holes with oval pieces of sod four inches thick. A layer of sand, a layer of dirt, a layer of sand, a layer of clay, a layer of sand, grass icing on the meridian. The form workers, some of them, wore parkas and windbreakers and gloves and ski caps.

A boyfriend working the hat concession at the main merchandise tent was asked what question he had received the virtually, on this Sat when fall blew into boondocks.

"Practise you have hats for big heads?"

"What'south the most pop lid?"

"What are hats made of?"

He rattled them off with ease.

"What most, 'Do you have ski caps?'" he was asked.

"That'd be 4th," the fellow said.

Some spectators wore their badges, hanging from lanyards and sheathed in plastic cases, on their backs, so the wind would not blow them in their noses and chins.

There was nobody hanging under the tree past the clubhouse, in mid-afternoon, and ane hardy foursome eating on the outdoor verandah beside it. A cold wind was blowing beyond Augusta.

At the concession stands, the need for beer and iced tea was low. The demand for hot coffee and hot tea was high. The 18 flags, each representing a competing nation above the behemothic scoreboard past the first fairway, were flapping wildly in the cold breeze.

The common cold cakewalk, the cold breeze, the cold breeze.

Nobody was going for 15 in two.

Nobody could merits a hot doodle.

A patron tries to stay warm on Sabbatum.

Stephen Denton

Nobody could claim this was a magical jump Saturday on this magical links, because it was non. In that location were no (or few) notable hawkeye roars through the afternoon, no lines of ode-to-spring deadline poetry being delivered by Jim Nantz from his perch. Fall had made an uninvited visit to Augusta National. It didn't even bother wearing a badge.

Fans stood with hands in pocket, shoulders raised, leaning forrad. Others wore masks, not in the proper noun of Covid prevention, necessarily, just in the interest of warmth. Some fans wore 2 hats, a baseball game chapeau with a ski cap on top of it. Among the countries represented on these hats were Scotland, Nike and Augusta National. Yep, those are nations. Nike nation.

In that location were scarves made of cotton and silk and polyester.

There were empty folding chairs, their nylon backs filling with wind like mainsails on a sloop, tumbling over in the wind.

Long after the last players came through 1, there was a lone human in a green windbreaker testing the firmness of the first fairway with a contraption that looked similar a bicycle-tire air pump. Long after the final players came through 10, there was a two-man team on the 10th greenish, each fella zipped to the chin, taking a series of photographs for a topographical map. Why? Who tin can say? It'due south Augusta National. The day was chilly, except for spells hither and at that place. However, in that location was a program for the day and not much would get in its fashion. You know: it'south Augusta National.

Paulina Gretzky went to a courtesy-machine Mercedes, cardinal in manus. She entered from the rider side. Her fiancé, Dustin Johnson, was in the caddie shack, grabbing a turkey sandwich. He emerged before long and went to the motorcar and climbed behind the cycle. Was the machine warm? The car was warm. Practise we know that? We do not. But sometimes you can make a guess.

Scottie Scheffler finished his round, signed his card, did a serial of interviews and went to the range. Yes, he went to the range. It was cold. That we're sure of. Information technology was a Sat night in April that felt similar a Saturday night in November. Fall had descended upon Augusta.

Michael Bamberger may exist reached at Michael.Bamberger@golf.com.

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Michael Bamberger

Golf.com Contributor

Michael Bamberger writes for Golf Magazine and Golf game.com. Before that, he spent nearly 23 years as senior writer for Sports Illustrated. After college, he worked as a newspaper reporter, start for the (Martha's) Vineyard Gazette, later for The Philadelphia Inquirer. He has written a multifariousness of books nigh golf and other subjects, the most recent of which is The Second Life of Tiger Forest. His magazine work has been featured in multiple editions of The Best American Sports Writing. He holds a U.S. patent on The Due east-Guild, a utility golf game order. In 2016, he was given the Donald Ross Award by the American Society of Golf game Class Architects, the organization'due south highest honor.

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Source: https://golf.com/news/saturday-augusta-national-frigid-fall-masters/

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