
They were 14 rows deep in the gallery, eight on one side, six on the other. There were five marshals, wrestling with rope, and several baseball-hatted G4 security men, sweating profusely.
A local sheriff marched through, perspiring through his regulation white shirt, too. Even for Augusta in April it was unseasonably warm: 89, according to the Weather Channel. There was speculation it would be the hottest Masters on record.
The senior G4 guy was eyeing the crowd for kids. When he spied one, he got him to the front, then asked if he would like to watch the players hit from the first tee itself. The boy nodded enthusiastically. It was approaching 1.48pm Eastern Time. Tiger o’clock.









