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AUGUSTA, Ga. — The email came in with the subject line “Monday Golf Outing” on Friday afternoon, April 11, as I was driving home to Charleston, S.C., after five days covering The Masters Tournament.
“Congratulations! You have been selected to play in the Press Monday Golf Outing on Monday, April 14, 2025,” the email read.
I was one of 28 media members, out of the hundreds eligible to enter, who won the annual Masters press lottery this year.
After writing about the loss of trees, pimento cheese sandwiches, $250 teddy bears, and the influx of private jets into Augusta for the most renowned golf tournament in the world, I would now be playing the most famous golf course in the world.
Some folks had won the lottery in their first attempts, like I just had, but many others have gone decades without hitting the jackpot. I finished the drive home, but my weekend plans changed. After a driving range session Saturday morning, I packed back up and hit the road Sunday morning.
At the 11:30 a.m. ET mandatory meeting—in the same interview room where earlier in the week Jon Rahm had lamented the lack of progress around PGA Tour–LIV Golf talks and Augusta National chairman Fred Ridley gave his annual address—a group of adults with gigantic smiles were walked through some ground rules:
- Arrive one hour, on the dot, before our tee times
- Long pants required for men
- No phones allowed on the course
- Cameras allowed, but no posting on social media
- No videos whatsoever
Then, we got our physical invitations—and the gravity of the situation started to sink in.
My tee time was noon, which meant plenty of time to psych myself out for the most exciting round of golf in my life. On Monday morning, just before 11, it was finally time to drive down Magnolia Lane.
Security guards greeted me as I pulled in, and checked my invitation and ID. My 2009 silver Honda Civic coupe made the stroll down the most iconic driveway in golf. I turned off my phone, and the valet quickly helped me unload, while a clubhouse worker checked me and others in.
We were taken straight to the champions locker room, where my foursome was assigned the locker annually reserved for 1998 Masters winner Mark O’Meara and the late Gene Sarazen (one of six players to win the career Grand Slam), who won the second Masters Tournament in 1935, when it was still known as the Augusta National Invitation Tournament. (The locker room attendant told us Rory McIlroy’s name plate had not yet been made.)
Next, I headed for the clubhouse pro shop, which offers even rarer merchandise than the regular Masters golf shop. Then, I grabbed a quick bite from the lunch buffet and squeezed in a few warmup swings at the same practice area that Masters participants had used—a location that even most members don’t get to utilize throughout the year.
Finally, it was just about time to tee off.
After shaking hands with several Augusta National staff members and taking a photo with my foursome on the first tee box, I was set to lead our group off. Of course, I hit a huge slice into the trees, while everyone else kept the ball in play. We were off.
My first several holes were shaky, but I was enjoying the conversations with my caddie, Joseph, who had just been on the bag for Minnesota junior Isabella McCauley in the Augusta National Women’s Amateur, played just before The Masters.
We were lucky to play the course with some of the temporary structures still standing. (Aiming “center of the grandstand” or “just left of the TV tower” were common themes throughout the day.)
My first par came on No. 6, and then after my third triple-bogey of the day on No. 7, things started to even out.
After closing the first nine holes in 51 strokes, and refueling at the small beverage and snack cart waiting for us by No. 10 tee, the real fun began on the second nine, Augusta National’s most famous holes.
Amen Corner, the 11th, 12th, and 13th holes, is extremely recognizable but also exclusive. During The Masters, patrons are mostly restricted to the viewing areas quite a distance from those iconic holes. So, to be able to walk those fairways and greens was special—and that’s where my biggest highlights came. The photo op at Hogan Bridge will surely lead to a few new framed portraits going up around my house.
I missed the green long and to the right on No. 12—the famous par-3 over Rae’s Creek—but was able to bump and run a pitching wedge right next to the hole to make par. I hit my best drive of the day on the par-5 13th: a perfect right-to-left laser that put me within striking distance of the green. A 7-iron got me over the tributary of Rae’s Creek, and then two putts later I had my first—and maybe only—birdie at Augusta National.
On No. 15, I unsuccessfully looked for the divot McIlroy made with his heroic shot Sunday afternoon. At the 16th, another famous par-3, nerves struck again and my first tee shot went in the water, but I was able to put my second attempt on the green.
It was rewarding to finish par-par on the final two holes, even though my caddie said he had never seen someone hit it so far left off the 18th tee box. The same fairway where McIlroy hit a perfect wedge to seal the playoff would’ve been nice, but my ball ended up in the old member’s driving range to the left of 18 that now serves as a walking area for patrons.
I was able to knock my approach on the green. Two putts got me my final par, and sadly, the round was over. I shot 92, which of course walking off 18 I thought should have been lower, but before the round I gladly would have taken.
I spent a few final moments in the champions locker room before packing up. Who knows if I’ll ever be lucky enough to return? Barring an unforeseen friendship with a Green Jacket, it won’t be this decade—I’m not allowed to enter the media lottery again for seven years, which seems more than fair.
I’ll hopefully be back to cover more Masters Tournaments before then, but it was surprisingly insightful to get a glimpse into what Augusta National Golf Club is like the rest of the year, when it’s not hosting hundreds of thousands of fans. After all, it still is a functioning country club—albeit with billionaires and celebrities fronting the membership list. It hosts jamborees and opening and closing parties for its golf season, and sometimes brings in bounce houses on the driving range for members’ children.
Exiting the property, once again on Magnolia Lane, was certainly bittersweet. I joked before The Masters that I didn’t want to win the media lottery this year, because my golf game wasn’t in good enough shape. In the end, that didn’t matter one bit. Monday was no doubt the round, and golf experience, of my life. Even if I do play Augusta National again, it will be hard to top my first time.
