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The Masters and Middleburg Are Closely Connected

The Masters and Middleburg Are Closely Connected

by Leonard Shapiro

It’s an annual rite of spring, just as colorful as the Middleburg daffodils, only more in shades of green. It’s The Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia, and as this April edition of Middleburg Life goes off to press, I’m going off to cover my 25th as an accredited member of the golf-writing media.

There’s a far more relevant connection to Middleburg at this year’s event than a local Oscar Madison heading south for a week.  The focus here should be directed to ten players in the elite field who are represented by our town’s long-time resident sports agent, my friend John Mascatello. He and his wife, Beth Ann, are both Hill School parents and active members of this community.

Several of John’s talented clients also must be considered among the very top favorites to prevail and don the coveted green jacket that goes to the champion.That list includes Jason Day of Australia, No. 1 in the world golf rankings, and Americans Rickie Fowler, No. 5, and past Masters champion Zach Johnson, No. 20.

 Four other clients are ranked in the world top 40—Kevin Kisner, J.B. Holmes, Mark Leishman and Bernd Wiesberger. And past PGA Tour winners Charley Hoffman, Vaughn Taylor and Andy Sullivan round out Mascatello’s Masters roster. 

 His arguably best-known charge won’t be at Augusta National. That would be John Daly, a two-time major champion who recently made his debut on the senior Champions Tour. With his addictive, wild-child lifestyle and occasionally self-destructive personality, some might say it’s been a miracle Daly managed to get to 50 in the first place. Then again Mascatello’s guidance, damage control and patience probably helped make that possible. But I digress.

For me, the Masters has been so mesmerizing for so many years and the sheer beauty of the place is definitely a factor. The course’s signature azaleas somehow are always in glorious full bloom all around a property that was a massive nursery before it was a golf course.

And then there’s the grass. A few years ago, I visited the club to gather information for a story. From behind the clubhouse, I watched 20 men walking abreast down the first fairway, with all eyes looking down. Every once in a while, one or another would bend down and pluck something out of the ground.

When I asked about it later, I was told that greenskeepers from courses all around voluntarily descend on the venue each year a few weeks before the tournament—otherwise known as the “toon-a-ment.” They walk every fairway for days, removing clover or minuscule weeds as they go along.

 Amazing.

And some of the drama I’ve witnessed has been equally incredible.

At my first, in 1992, popular Fred Couples hit a shot at the signature 12th hole, a short par 3 over water, that defied every law of gravity. Somehow, his ball stuck to the short grass on a closely mowed slope in front of the green and did not roll back down into the pond. He turned a near double bogey disaster into a breathtaking par, and went on to win the tournament by two shots, his only major title.

Five years later, Tiger Woods, a 21-year-old African-American prodigy in his first full season as a pro, blew away the field, setting records for scoring (18-under par) and margin of victory (12 shots). It was a breathtaking performance for the ages, but what I remember most was watching Woods walk through a massive crowd to the first tee before the final round. I was standing next to then-Washingtonian Lee Elder, the first black golfer ever to play in the tournament in 1975.

As I looked behind me on the balcony of the second floor of the clubhouse, the same historic scene was being viewed by more than 50 Augusta National employees—waiters, cooks, dishwashers, janitors and housekeepers, virtually all of them African-Americans, as well. And as I glanced over at my friend, Lee Elder, tears of joy were streaming down his face and he was unable to speak.

It’s one of the most memorable sports moments I’ve ever witnessed and virtually impossible to top. But this year, it will be more than enough to pull hard for a Middleburg/John Mascatello connection to prevail, perhaps in a tense playoff. I’m picking Rickie Fowler, and you heard it here first if you’re reading this before Sunday evening on April 10. Not quite a Middleburg favorite son. But close enough. 

(You can reach Leonard Shapiro at badgerlen@aol.com)

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