Gambling On The Masters.

Can you feel it? That tingle in your stomach, that warmth in the air. Can you hear it? The silky smooth sounds of Ray Charles “Georgia On My Mind” ringing through the towering pines at Augusta. “Georgia, Georgia, The Whole Day Through.” Can You see it?

“No Brett! I’m Blind…”

“Sorry Ray... that’s on me…”

Let’s try this again… Can you see it? The brown dormant grass gradually turning into luscious green fairways, vibrant pink azaleas in bloom, the best players in the world choking on Rays long snaking creek (I said creek). Ahh it’s Masters week.

I can’t believe a year has passed since Scottie Scheffler’s happy feet won him his second green jacket in three years. A lot has changed in a year since we last saw Augusta. Thanks to Hurricane Helena a few trees have been removed while a trio of greens had to be replaced. My waistline has become a little girthier. A couple of my friends had children. Rory McIlroy lost the U.S. Open in heartbreaking fashion but gained redemption at The Players and most importantly Call of Duty brought back Verdansk. But one thing hasn’t changed and that’s the fact that I still don’t know how the hell you bet on golf…

About this time Wednesday during Masters week, I usually load up the Volkswagen with degenerate gamblers and head south to the land of corn fields to place a few bets on The Masters. But I haven’t felt the urge this year. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to betting on golf. When I get to the kiosk at Diamond Jo’s chain-smoking riddled barn on the border of Minnesota and Iowa, I pull a $50 bill out of my lint filled pocket and slide it in the slot just to have it be rejected by the kiosk. It's a stern reminder of every time I try this pick-up line at a bar,

“You know how much polar bear weighs?”

“Umm No?”

“Enough to break the ice… Hi I’m Brett.”

“Get away from me…”

After the first rejection from the kiosk, I begin to whisper to myself,

“Maybe that’s a sign to turn around and go home.”

But I don’t listen. I never listen to that voice in my head. I take that $50 bill, rub it against my thigh to get all the creases out and try to insert into the same unwelcoming slot. After 5 maybe 6 tries the kiosk finally gobbles up my money and that’s when I begin to just stare aimlessly at a never-ending list of names that I know nothing about until I end up saying,

“F it! It’s his year… I’m just going throw $20 on Rory to win.”

Spoiler alert I have never won any money…

After I inevitably waste that $20 on Rory, it usually leaves me with $30 to play with. That’s when I scroll to the bottom of the list to find Freddy Couples smooth swinging behind and toss a 5’er on him to win The Masters. His odds are usually in the +200000, which means there is some value there. Once I bet Freddy to win, I peak on over at his top 20 odds and see +4500, get excited and throw another 5’er on that while thinking,

“Ahh its Freddy his got one last one in him…”

After I put $5 to $10 of hope on Freddy I’m left with $20, and this is when I start to get really confused…

I begin looking for different bets like,

Will There Be an Albatross?

“Probably not… but Bryson can hit the ball pretty darn far, he might be able to do it… F it, I’m in for a 5’er…”

Group Combined Hole Score - Hole 1 – Round 1.

“Oh, this seems too easy… First round jitters will cause everyone to be over par. F it, I’m in for a 5’er.”

Leader After Round One.

“That Aberg guy is pretty darn good, and he is Swedish, he could easily be in the lead after round 1. F it, I’m in for a 5’er.”

Will The Winner Be From The USA?

“Ahh Yeah… USA, USA, USA… Crap… I just realized if someone from the USA wins that means Rory loses causing me to lose that bet… Boy, math is hard. F it, I’m in for a 5’er…”

It’s bets like those that get me in trouble, I just say, F it, I’m in for a 5’er and before I know it, I’m out of money and don’t have a clue what I actually bet on. But I’ve come to realize after losing all my money over the years while betting on The Masters that The Masters isn’t really about gambling. It’s about a tradition unlike any other. Watching Rory McIlroy lose another green jacket. I’m just kidding Rory, I didn’t mean that... If you can believe it, I'm actually pulling for you this weekend…

The Masters is about a golf course that is as beautiful as it is hard. It’s about a player’s mental strength to get through 4-rounds of amen corner unscathed. It’s about watching the best players in the world crumble over a 3-foot putt like we do at our local municipal course with an ice-cold Coors Light on the line. It’s about texting your friends “are you watching this” when Tiger is about to complete the greatest comeback in sports history by winning in 2019. But most importantly It’s about spending time with your dad while listening to him reminisce about the time he was there and hearing him say,

“Brett, I don’t know if things have changed since 1992 but tv just doesn’t give the course justice for how hilly and beautiful it is.”

Those stories never get old and neither does springtime down in Augusta Georgia.

Thanks For Reading and Enjoy The Masters.