The past isn't even past at Augusta National Golf Club
AUGUSTA, Ga. - The fog hadn't yet faded from Augusta's low-lying pines when Arnold Palmer, 85 years old, his back bent and his sore left arm hanging at his side, stepped up to the ball and nestled a perfect approach shot right up to the edge of the ninth green.
He was, alas, hitting from the first tee.
Palmer, along with fellow legends Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player, had just begun the 2015 Masters with the traditional ceremonial tee shot. It's intimately familiar ground for all of them. Combined, these men have 147 appearances at the Masters and 13 green jackets. From 1960-66, these three won every single championship at Augusta.
As a result, their every move here at Augusta is an echo of an earlier time. Everywhere the Big Three — and that's the collective name they go by here, like a band — walk, they walk in the footsteps of their younger selves. Patrons pay homage as the three walk by. The green-jacketed members of Augusta National attend to their every need. Even popes and heads of state don't enjoy this kind of reverence.
The best part of all this? At the heart of all the pomp and circumstance are three extraordinarily fortunate guys who, 60 years on, still seem bemused by all the attention lavished on them. They jab and jibe at each other, their affection as evident as the rivaly that still exists between them. These are guys that remember not only jokes from half a century ago, but the clubs they used to beat one another, too.
On this day, Player won the round, outdriving Nicklaus off the tee. None of the men opted to play another shot, instead heading to the press building for what's become an annual tradition: genteel yet pointed trash-talking.
This year marks the 50th anniversary of Nicklaus' second Masters win. Indeed, it's 50 years to the day that these three were tied at the end of the second round. And what do they remember of that day?
"I remember the wrong man won," Player laughed.
"I remember what the third round was," Nicklaus said, effectively dropping the mic: he'd posted a then-course record 64, running away with the tournament and marking the end of Palmer's run of major victories.
Their 25-minute press conference was like sitting at the table with old friends. The verbal jabs landed in 2015 as effortlessly as the golf shots in 1965.
Player on Palmer: "He's got deep pockets and short arms, and never bought me a lunch."
Palmer, replying: "You wouldn't give the ducks a drink if you owned Lake Okeechobee."
"I've slept at Arnold's house," Player said. "Slept at Jack's house. The food was lousy."
"I'll tell [Jack's wife] Barbara you said that," Nicklaus replied.
As Palmer remembered driving up Magnolia Lane for the first time in a beat-up pink Ford, Nicklaus cackled. And after a dozen or so questions, Palmer declared, "Are we done here? I'm ready to go."
This is the positive side of a club and a sport enshrouded in — some would say paralyzed by — tradition. Augusta National doesn't hustle its legends offstage in an eternal pursuit of the new. Masters champions dine on their accomplishments year after year. And if that leaves said legends sometimes feeling a bit like they're trapped under glass like the remains of the recently fallen Eisenhower Tree, well, at least they're still getting their due respect.
It's a lesson not lost on many in golf's current generation. On the edge of the early-morning crowd watching the tee shots stood Bubba Watson, sporting his green jacket. Keegan Bradley was nearby, as was Rickie Fowler, up early even though he wouldn't tee off until the final pairing of Thursday. Sure, Watson could nearly outdrive all three of them combined. But that's not the point.
The most important element of the Big Three isn't that they're now stooped, creaking shadows of their iconic selves. It's that they're still vibrant and laughing with one another. Athletic skills wither and die, trees splinter and fall, but the best friendships persist forever.
"The greatest word that exists in any book of note is 'love,'" Player said, "and I think this is what we've had for each other."
It's entirely possible that 50 years from now, Watson and Fowler will be shuffling over to this same first tee to begin the 2065 Masters. (Badges will be selling for $100,000, but pimento cheese sandwiches will still be two bucks.) If we're all around long enough to see that, we'll be lucky. If we've still got our two best friends at our side, we'll be even more so.
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Jay Busbee is a writer for Yahoo Sports. Contact him at jay.busbee@yahoo.com or find him on Twitter.
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