Life Out Here: The Brandt Snedeker Footbridge

“Now as he walks toward the 18th green, also known as Flowering Splotched Squash Hub,” the announcer says in hushed, reverential tones, “our leader will cross the Brandt Snedeker Footbridge and walk up the Hunter Mahan Footpath, then take a left at the Charles Howell III Latrine, where through the magnificent magnolias, he can’t get help but get a glimpse of the legendary, luminous and luscious Amen Corner, amen.

“Oh, the majesty of Augusta National Golf Club and the Masters!

“Oh!”

Cue the sweeping orchestral music, straight from the John Tesh catalog. Cue me barfing.

I say this as someone who likes golf, who regularly played it, quite terribly, until about eight months ago and who may return to it when he has more time, patience and physical coordination.

I have nothing against the Masters or Augusta National, other than that the people who run both are racist, sexist troglodytes who smugly refuse to acknowledge this is the 21st century.

That said, Augusta National appears to be a lovely place in an otherwise mostly armpit of a town. (Been there, left that.) But the whole thing about the tradition of the Masters and its languid, lush, sanguine nature is more than overblown, particularly by CBS Sports, which overblows things like no other network, public relations agency or pathological liar. We were subjected to CBS Sports at its most pompous with its Masters coverage over the weekend.

For example, the CBS theme for the Masters is “A Tradition Like No Other.” No kidding. If it were “A Tradition Like Another,” it would be another tradition, wouldn’t it?

My favorite tradition, though, is Tiger Woods throwing and kicking his clubs and swearing after bad shots, which he has done for decades at the Masters. The holy trifecta is when Tiger does all three after a shot … a shot I’m sure I would revel in, actually.

Tiger was kind enough to perform the holy trifecta over the weekend. It was Easter, after all.

Adding to CBS’s overblown idiocy with the Masters is the broadcast team, led by Jim Nantz, who would try to add gravitas to an intramural Frisbee golf tournament in Lubbock, and David Feherty, who has been in the country from Ireland long enough to lose much of his native accent but still fakes it when he thinks it will make him sound quaint, knowing it’s the only thing that distinguishes him. His commentary and golf career certainly haven’t.

But it’s not just CBS’s coverage that makes the Masters so overwrought. There’s also the tradition of naming every single thing on the golf course. There’s the Byron Nelson Footbridge, the Bobby Jones Footpath, the Camilo Villegas Bad Sprinkler Wet Batch.

It goes way too far. I mean, the Tom Kite Duck Bile Pile? Sorry. That’s too much.

Of course, the grandest Masters tradition is the awarding to the tournament winner the green jacket, which matches the green jackets of the Augusta National club members. (I always thought if they really wanted the tourney winner to match the club members, the winner also should be awarded a Klan hood.)

Personally I think a green jacket is gaudy, even for golf. If I won the Masters (people who have seen me golf are laughing uproariously right now) I would say, “That’s nice, but could you get me that in a pinstripe, maybe gray?”

Then I would walk over the Brandt Snedeker Footbridge to the Charles Howell III Latrine and have a moment of privacy before rolling with joy in the Camilo Villegas Broken Sprinkler Wet Patch.

Bret Kofford teaches writing at San Diego State University-Imperial Valley campus. His opinions don’t necessarily reflect those of SDSU or its employees. Kofford can be reached at

Kofford@roadrunner.com.