Majorless Monty has to sit and suffer like us poor viewers

TV VIEW:THE THING with watching the Masters is that you spend most of your time not watching the Masters. It's the only mass-market sports event all year that behaves as though it couldn't give a tuppenny one about either the masses or the market. Say what you like about the Allianz league – and plenty have – but at least they don't restrict you to watching only the last 15 minutes of the games.

With the Masters, they let you join in only after eight in the evening, as though you were a school kid who has to finish his homework before turning on the Xbox. So a jonesing golf fan spends a Masters Thursday chasing around like Bubbles in The Wire, pulling scams and trying all manner of tricks to get a taste of what’s going on in Augusta. A snatched internet stream here, the occasional video posted on the Masters website there, anything to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. Put it this way, I’m not sure I’d be able to pass a polygraph if the internet piracy police came looking for me after yesterday.

When it did eventually come on yesterday, Sky were forced to stick us with an hour of Remember When with Jack Nicklaus before they were allowed to show us any action. Jack has done this kind of thing a million times in his life and wrung every story dry at this point but he can still crank out an hour’s telly with more ease than most broadcasters.

“I always say that Major championships are the easiest tournaments to win,” smirked Jack, causing much uncomfortable shifting in his seat by the famously majorless Colin Montgomerie next to him.

“Oh, right, thanks for that,” said Monty, the thought bubble over his head (available on the red button) pondering whether it would be okay to practice his power fade on the side of the six-time Masters champion’s head.“Well yeah,” said Jack, warming to his theme. “Once you know how to do it.” Zing!

Anyway, the golf. Which, this being an American production, meant all Tiger Woods all the time. Lee Westwood birdied five of the first eight holes on his way to the top of the leaderboard but he could have done it wearing nothing but his soft spikes for all the TV audience would have known. Poor Henrik Stenson was leading the tournament but until he clattered into the trees with his drive off the 18th tee, he may as well have been hokey-cokeying through the pines and it still wouldn’t have made it to air. Ho-hum. A shame, because Stenson’s habitual fits of temper are always fun to watch. Sure enough, once his third shot on the last skittered along the ground like the hack of a 15-handicapper, he looked like he was thinking about going into the manners-teaching business. And those manners would be taught to the patch of ground beneath his feet, his teaching aid nothing more subtle than the four-iron in his hand.

His hatchet-chop into the pine needles brought some tut-tutting from Ewan Murray in the commentary box. “That’s not done at Augusta,” he intoned. Sheesh. Poor Henrik finished with an eight on the last and walked off in search of a cat to kick.

Maybe a little karma got a hold of the host broadcaster when, about half an hour later, Tiger went into those self-same trees off the 18th tee.

Over on Setanta, they were taking the feed directly from the States with Faldo, Feherty and Ian Baker Finch-ey. Tenth tee – Phil Mickelson sprays one into the undergrowth just past what will forever be known as Rory’s Cabins. Cue the sort of kick-the-bushes search that most of us have to endure once a round. “You’re talking between slim and zero chance of him finding this,” said Faldo.

Even with 30-odd patrons helping out, the high-handicappers among us could have told him that slim was vastly over-selling it. Like Jack says, once you know . . .