Colin Byrne's/Augusta Caddie's Diary: Sunday April 6th: My man Paul Lawrie sinks a slippery, four-foot putt for birdie and a top 10 place in the BellSouth tournament in Atlanta. His best finish in the States since I have caddied for him. Given that he only got into the event as a late replacement for Colin Montgomerie, this was a pleasant bonus for both of us.
Travelling tends to be relatively easy, if somewhat monotonous, in the States. I was waiting outside the locker-room for my travel companion to make the two hour road trip east to Augusta.
Retief Goosen stepped out sportily from the clubhouse having shot a 65 final round and offered me a lift to Augusta, in a private jet. I would probably have been in the back seat of a rental car on Interstate 20 East if Retief didn't have a good finish.
Not complaining, off we go to the local airfield and are no sooner climbing in the six-seater twin jet aircraft than we are beginning our descent into the Augusta private airfield. Our co-pilot turns out to be Sinead from Cork.
Monday 7th: Thunder, lightning and buckets of rain. No play on the first official practice day. An inch and a half of rain and an early cocktail hour was all the poor golf enthusiasts got for their efforts. They were not even allowed in to buy memorabilia. Not to worry, at least they will get their money back. Face value, of course, and not until next month. The green jackets obviously have a pretty good investment on the Monday takings.
Tuesday 8th: Soggy again and I trudge down the back roads of Washington Avenue happy that I had heeded the forecast last week for Augusta and bought myself a pair of waterproof shoes. The Tuesday patrons are more fortunate than the previous day's spectators, the rain is light and intermittent so they are allowed in promptly at 8 a.m.
A practice round is arranged with Monty and the twice past champion Bernhard Langer. A relaxed mood reins as the three-ball cut in on the 10th tee ahead of Tiger Woods, who had already played the front nine, starting in near darkness, in order to get a few holes in before the punters are allowed in to watch.
Nobody likes getting stuck behind the fastidious German on the course, least of all in a practice round. Tiger had to wait patiently on every fairway. Because Bernhard is always testing and willing to change, his faithful porter, Pete Coleman, was lugging around 20 clubs for this round, which is fairly normal. Bernhard's coach, Willie Hofmann, was outside the ropes with some extra reserve drivers. Pete obviously has a weight limit.
As Monty hit his second tee-shot onto the short 12th green, a patron from the mouthy mob gathered behind the tee yelled " 'Er ya go Big Daddie". "More like Big Momma, the way he hit his first one," another added after watching Big Monty dump it in the front trap first time round. That could be a nick-name that will stick with Big Monty.
Wednesday 9th: It chucked it down all night but considerately stopped from daylight until mid afternoon. The festive par three event could not be dampened by the afternoon downpour. The patrons were making the most of the light-hearted affair. KJ Choi's son was the star in the caddie ranks. It is traditional that friends and family caddie in the par three event. If you caddie at Augusta you must wear a traditional boiler suit, it doesn't matter how small you are. Standing at half the size of the golf bag with the bottom of his boiler suit dragging off the ground, KJ's little boy got more attention than the golfers.
Hootie Johnson, the Masters chairman, gave his much-awaited press conference supposedly to deal with the issue of female members in the esteemed club. He surrounded himself with a gaggle of green jackets and avoided the issue. The diatribe lasted for a minute longer than scheduled and those journalists who had congregated from around the globe solely for this statement went to their desks with empty note pads.
The "I Support Hootie" stand on Washington Avenue was not shifting too many of its "I Support Hootie" badges at $5 a go. There was no sign of the "I Support Martha Burk" stand.
Thursday 10th: My new waterproof boots were being put to a severe test early on, still raining at day break, having heaved it down all night. Having played the course on Wednesday despite water lying in the low areas, the course was playable, but in the end the powers that be cancelled the day's play.
Friday 11th: Despite a cold and gloomy morning it looks like we are finally going to start the first round of the 2003 Masters. Not so fast, there's another delay. The first hole is playing so long that the 10-minute intervals between tee-times is not enough, so we tee off about five minutes behind schedule. The green jackets decided to place the tee markers at about three paces from the back edge of almost every tee. As if Augusta needed some protection in these soggy and damp conditions.
Even the patrons got bored waiting for the tardy players to finish their rounds. With an hour of play left, with the best golfers in the world competing under the most severe conditions, every stand was virtually empty. Why all the rush in the early morning for viewing position?
Even when we got going, we waited on every shot and ended up taking five hours and 50 minutes to play the first round. A 40-minute break and off we set on the second round. Most players didn't complete their second round so we had to be back in position at 8.20 a.m. on Saturday. We had been on the course for about 10-and-a-half- hours in order to play 31 holes.
Saturday 12th: So this is more like the Masters mornings that we are used to. A crisp and fresh morning, the sun breaking through a watery haze over the Augusta National, a mystical golfing morning.
It was going to be another long day for those who made the cut, but just a futile couple of finishing holes for those in an impossible position to salvage the cut.
Paul Lawrie completed his final hole by holing an extremely fast, downhill putt for birdie on the ninth. He hung around the re-designed locker-room and lounges waiting for lunch to be served.
At 11.10 a.m. he asked one of the players' family lounge waiters if he could order some food, having seen Mark O'Meara and his family tucking into a feast of hamburger and fries. "Lunch is not served until 11.30, Mr Lawrie," was the reply from the courteous waiter. Lawrie remarked that O'Meara appeared to be eating lunch already. "Mr O'Meara is a champion of this club sir," came the retort, "he can eat whenever he wants."
Sunday 12th: Another foreigner takes the coveted Green Jacket. Well, a neighbourly foreigner, but a non-American nonetheless. America is an extremely patriotic country, and particularly now. The Masters patrons are not really there for the golf, they are there to cheer their American heros. Many of the greens are elevated so it is hard to tell where your approach shot has finished. The crowd's reaction is your only gauge. But the crowd seem to recognise only American players when it comes to good shots. The result for both of us today was that we could not be sure where the "blind" shots had finished because the patrons in the stands were an unreliable patriot source.
Of all the Masters I have attended this was the first at which I was present until the end. I had spent the week passing by ticket touts on Washington Avenue looking to trade "badges". I could understand this on Sunday morning. But as I left the course on Sunday evening, people were offering $40 for badges after the whole show was over. Only in America.
