My needs are simple.
Daughter, Elissa (aka Jelly) was at the final round of The Masters today, but needed to leave before the tournament ended.
The story began here Year Six
Knowing how to suck up to the old man, she brought back a Pimento Cheese Sandwhich from Augusta. I got to enjoy it while watching the final minutes and I didn’t have to leave my iPhone in the car.
For those who may question my integrity, thinking I may have created the sandwhich prop in my own kitchen, I provide you this proof:
As the tournament concluded, everyone was asking “Danny Who”?
I am not a golfer. I tried it almost thirty years ago and it wasn’t for me. There is something about The Masters though, that mesmerizes me. Maybe it is the rugged individualism exhibited by the golfers? Maybe it is the civility, tradition and respect for the rules? Maybe it is the lack of full-body tattoos and strings of “bling” and celebratory dances? Maybe it is the respect for the institution that celebrated eighty years of existence today?
Maybe, because I know people who currently work there and even grew up living on the grounds, I have a deeper insight?
Maybe, in a world where traditions continue to fall by the wayside, where respect and civility are difficult to find, where fringe minority groups try to impose their will on the majority, The Augusta National, with no apologies, does it their way and no one is going to get them to do it differently.
I admire that.
Our Country needs more institutions with the onions to stand up for what they believe and not capitulate to the whiny factions of protesters.
God bless the Augusta National.