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Shouting at Amen Corner
By Ron Green
Sports Publishing, Inc.
From the Hearth - Readers are invited to view the excerpted transcript of an
exclusive Talking Point interview with the author. To do so, click on the
microphone icon. The conversation includes remembrances of Ben Hogan, an
appraisal of the once and future controversial changes to Augusta National,
and insights of interest to the Masters enthusiast.
A Reporter's Augusta Chronicles
Recently retired from The Charlotte Observer, Ron Green continues to
return to Augusta each April, having reported on, now, forty-six Masters, or
nearly as many as Doug Ford has played in. It's an estimable achievement. His
dispatches covering forty-five tournaments, starting with Cary Middlecoff's
win in 1955, form an encyclopedic timeline of golf's most revered tournament
from the eyes of a dutiful reporter.
His columns stand up well enough, peppered with the sort of period
detail, dialogue and solid legwork often sopped up later by those
unencumbered by daily deadlines and enjoying the luxury of hindsight.
Shouting at Amen Corner will save the inveterate Masters buff numerous
senior moments and settle debates at the 19th hole. Those struggling, for
instance, to remember what year it was that Ed Sneed crashed and burned
(1979), or precisely how Roberto DiVicenzo described his own tragic
immortality ("What a stupid I am to be wrong here.") or what happened to Tom
Kite while Ben Crenshaw triumphed in 1984, (two on Sunday into Rae's Creek
for a triple at 12), can easily flip through to find the answers or, in the
process, stumble upon any number of equally captivating notes.
It's when the author, a member of the North Carolina Journalism Hall of
Fame, takes the long view that the book becomes more than just a resource to
glean who did what when.
Prefacing each year's accounts, Green looks back and adds his
reflections. These observations tacked on at the start, just a paragraph or
two, flesh out his instincts in pursuit of the theme while the battle waged
around him. They add a welcome sidebar of context to the bare bones of the
straight game story.
"I always felt that Bob Goalby was the real victim in 1968," he writes,
introducing the columns on 1968, later noting that "Goalby dealt with it well
enough." An interesting take given the sympathetic focus on Roberto, and it
percolated to the surface for a memorable lead in Monday's paper:
"In his finest hour, Bob Goalby was a villain."
There are, as one would expect, stories and vignettes to please
generations of Masters fans, whether they've pulled for Sam Snead or Tiger
Woods.
When a reporter asks Gary Player, tied with Palmer in 1960 after 36
holes, if he had watched scoreboards to see what Arnold was doing, Player
answered precisely, "Yes," then after a long pause, he added, "frightening."
Great stuff.
The beat reporter necessarily has to stay with the tournament, but
earlier in the week he gets to stretch out a little, taking time to drink in
the splendor and look for threads worth pursuing beyond the ropes. Intriguing
flotsam and jetsam finds its way into his notebook.
Barbara Nicklaus, it seems, once referred to her husband as "Stonewall,"
because, she said, "he never hears what I'm saying when he's concentrating on
television. It's like talking to a stone wall."
The author breakfasted with the Palmers before the final round of the 1958
Masters. "I don't see how they can make a fellow like Ken Venturi such a
heavy favorite," Arnie said over Cornflakes. "There are too many good players
here to pick out one and say he is going to win." Players breaking bread
with hacks during Masters week?! Imagine that. In any event, Arnold knew what
he was talking about, and ended up pocketing $11,500 for his win. Venturi
limped in to tie for fourth. You can look it up.
During his watch, the Masters has prospered, certainly, in part from its
adherence to a strict and, to the outside world, sometimes mystifying code of
formality and old fashioned Southern ethos. The tournament has thrived,
impressively marketing and protecting itself, while deflecting the media to a
degree unprecedented - in Sport or out.
The less roseate social and historical blemishes of Bob Jones's
invitational are not featured here. These are the stories that concern the
golf tournament proper, arguably the world's greatest. Magnolia Lane, Bob
Jones, Amen Corner, have for many a magical and transcendent appeal. Those
who feel the mystique of the Masters in an increasingly crude and mercenary
age will find Mr. Green's life's work will fuel their enthusiasm and
anticipation for what has become a rite of spring.
Rating: Cat-Stroker * * *
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