Happy winner of a draw which allows accredited journalists to set off on Augusta National the day after the major tournament, our special correspondent remembers.
Special envoy to Augusta,
It was April 2023. Chrissie’s blue eyes shone behind her large rectangular glasses. From the Peter Pan collar of her white lace blouse hung a golden cross. Her curly blond hair gave her the look of a first communicant. «Thirty three ». With a kind smile, the assistant secretary of Augusta National announced the number assigned to me for the annual drawing reserved for journalists. The dream within reach: eighteen holes at Augusta for a few polishes who came to cover the tournament from around the world. Seven games of four as a jackpot.
“33, the age of Christ”I thought, inspired by the angelic face that smiled at me, before hearing myself utter a not-so-pious wish, in imperfect English: “What a good number to hope to play Augusta National on an Easter Monday…”. In the land of “little green men”as my colleague Philippe Hermann, who has been around them for over fifty years, calls them, we don’t joke with chance, especially when the religious calendar gets involved.
“33 Laurent Louët”
In short, on Saturday morning, when I arrived at the Augusta National press center, my heart was still light from the day before. My friend and colleague Lionel Vella (Golf Planète) – an early riser who has put up with my snoring in our vacation spots for so many years – was the first to tell me: “Lolo, you’re going to play Augusta!” Your name is on the board. » In the large polished wooden hall, a slate displayed at the head of the lucky ones: “33 Laurent Louët”.
The invitation card to play the Augusta National GC LL
I must admit, when Chrissie gave me the nominal invitation for Monday during a briefing, I still barely believed it. Yet I held the card between my fingers. And if I had no real merit to dispose of it, I intended not to let anything go of this magnificent gift of fate. Despite the questions running through my head: how was I going to get by with my poor index at 18? Was this really reasonable? In any case, there was no question of going back. We don’t refuse the experience with a capital E of a golfer’s life, despite a little imposter syndrome.
“Take my clubs, if you want. They will not have traveled for nothing. » The pout of Jean-Philippe Rodenburger (Journal du golf) reflected his disappointment. Since Paris, he was convinced that this was his year. In the aisles of the press center, the names of the lucky ones were passed around, amid laughter and good advice from those who had already been there. Starting with the northerner Romain Lefèvre (L’Équipe) who I had seen buy a yellow polo shirt two years earlier at Hooters to honor the course. “Enjoy yourself, Dad”he said to me on Whatsapp, sending me a photo of a frame hanging in the toilet: “And your scorecard will end up like this”. It was decided, I would wear a red polo shirt.
Tom Watson, in gold letters
Obviously, the previous night was long. Once the portrait of Jon Rahm, magnificent winner of the 2023 edition, written and then sent to the newspaper at the end of the evening, all I could think about was hitting my drive from the member tee of 1 at Augusta National. Summoned to leave at 10:50 a.m., I was up at 5 o’clock. Cotton legs. My mind turned upside down. And fear in my stomach. In the small house that hosted Rocco Médiate when he played the Masters, my colleagues packed their bags to return to Paris. Always kind, my friend Guillaume Dufy told me: “Come on Lolo, it’s your day. » I tried to convince myself of it.
As I drove onto Magnolia Lane, photos of the books on the scene came back to me. Entering the winners’ locker room, when the staff pointed me to a locker, the name in gold letters of Tom Watson jumped out at me. Tom Watson, double winner of the Masters in 1977 and 1981, at whose table I had the privilege of dining in the clubhouse of Saint Andrew’s during his last participation in The Open in 2019. I occupied Tom Watson’s locker , one of my idols. Naughty guy.
At the start of the par 3 of 16 LL
«Ah, l’Amen Corner !»
We have to go now. First putt on the putting green. My ball slides like a mirror. Steve, the cadet designated to accompany me, holds back a smile under his green cap. “You’ll get used to it.”, he slips, benevolently, into his white zipped outfit. It’s time to hit the puck. There are four of us. I play after a young American colleague. A hitter. My goal is to stay on the fairway. «Job is done». Barely left on the slope. Bogey at the finish of 1. Here we go. A bunker exit of around forty meters stuck to the flagpole at 3, a ball that slides to the right of the green from par 3 to 6, an unexpected exit to the sandbox flag at 8… the holes pass by at great speed under splendid sunshine until Amen Corner. Ah, the Amen Corner! My stomach tightens.
On the par 4 of the 11th, the body of water is purple but I manage to avoid it to catch the green. On the par 3 of the 12th, I chose to take a club above to complete the 137 meters to the flag. I don’t want to dive. I aim left. My ball hits the back of the green and returns to the collar of the small rough. Chip chilly so as not to slip into the water then two putts make a bogey. Phew. On the par 5 of the 13th. My third shot is much too ambitious, it goes straight into the water. I’m sinking. A new bogey at 16 playing the slope from the right pleases me. It’s already time to head into the corridor of trees on hole 18. The day before, I witnessed Rahm’s victorious comeback right here. I believe it. Par rewards a good putt, a voluntary second shot and a precise chip for a final putt. Like a child, I too won the Masters! No green jacket waiting for me at the clubhouse. Just the scorecard that shows 100 all round. Not glorious, just unforgettable.
With Steve, friendly and precious caddey of the Augusta National GC LL