Breakfast at Amen Corner: Starting Masters week at Augusta’s iconic 3-hole stretch
The sun creeps over the water tower guarding the rolling hills of Augusta National Golf Club as I slip under the scoreboard next to the first tee box. The morning dew is still fresh at 7:13 a.m. My faded gray Nike soft spikes kick up water with each ensuing step.
Masters week is less than an hour away. The public gates will swing open at 8 a.m. and patrons will flood the course. The khakied brigade of volunteers littering the fairways and a handful of maintenance crews are the only people on these hallowed grounds this early in the morning.
But for a few fleeting moments, I chase a chance at a minute alone in this cathedral to golf.
It’s Amen Corner — the 11th, 12th and 13th holes nicknamed after a 1958 Sports Illustrated piece that dubbed it such — I choose for this endeavor. What better way to ring in the 86th Masters, and my first, than enjoying breakfast at Augusta National’s most storied stretch of bermudagrass?
I swipe a chicken biscuit and a plastic water bottle emblazoned with the Masters’ famed yellow silhouette of the United States from a grab-and-go stand before heading off for the course. A golf cart shuttles me from the media center to the leaderboard residing in the shadows of the clubhouse.
Slipping around the towering scoreboard a stone’s throw from the 18th green, I adjust the brim of my bucket hat, tuck my notebook and pen into the back right pocket of my shorts and set out for that slice of golfing heaven tucked into the southeast corner of the course.
“Good morning,” a cheery usher says as I reach for the crosswalk in front of the first tee box.
“Morning,” I echo back.
It is a good morning.
Heading to Amen Corner at Augusta National
Directionally challenged as I am, my walk takes a few detours as I head for the furthest reaches of Augusta National.
I cut through the middle of the property, first crossing Holes 1 and 9 into a clearing between the 8th and 18th holes. I swing down 18, somehow ending up behind the 7th green. Not quite right. A box loaded with course maps offers me a reprieve. I grab one, head down the cart path and make my way toward my intended destination.
After 10 to 15 minutes of semi-informed but equally aimless walking, I bend around the 11th hole where Amen Corner’s fabled opening comes into view.
A pair of greenskeepers are finishing final preparations. They roll the 11th green, followed by the 12th and 13th. I nestle into the first row of the grandstand closest to the putting surface on No. 11, two seats in from the column that splits between the pair of bleachers behind the 12th tee box.
Birds chirp in the distance. The azaleas bloom in brilliant pink hues. Sunlight peeks through the flowering dogwood plants standing watch over the first third of this foreign outpost.
Clank, clank clank.
The banging of a hammer against the cup on the 11th green breaks the silence.
My left hand has gone a touch numb, a combination of a chilly morning coupled with holding an ice-cold water bottle for the last 20 minutes. I unwrap my chicken biscuit. That, too, isn’t quite as warm as it was when my journey began.
I gnaw on my breakfast sandwich that — for those with a vested interest in the fast-food chicken sandwich wars — is somewhere in size between a Chick-fil-a chicken mini and a Bojangle’s cajun filet biscuit.
Sixteen fold-up chairs have already been placed along the ropes on the left side of the viewing area when I settle into the grandstand at 7:34 a.m. The black tarps covering the 12th tee box have yet to be whisked away.
For a brief moment, I feel alone, slowly drifting into a state of nirvana.
Fans trickle out to this isolated corner of Augusta. Michael Rho and John Jarboe, old buddies from their days working as ear, nose and throat specialists in Boston, are among the first to the ropes. Each unpacks his green Masters-branded fold-up chair and reserves a spot just behind the 12th tee.
“The sun’s rising and there’s no one here,” Rho said. “It’s just quiet and peaceful. It’s almost like a religious experience.”
“If you love golf,” Jarboe adds, “this is like the cathedral for golf right here.”
Troy Lerche and his 8-year-old son Jack follow shortly behind. They opt for the right-ish side of the 12th tee box, a slightly more central location for the three pins situated within sight.
Neither Troy or Jack had been to the Masters prior to Monday. Troy twice had tickets in previous years, but a pair of surgeries forced him to miss out on his bucket list endeavor.
Friday night, though, he received a call from a family friend near their home in Jacksonville. They’d come down with COVID-19 and couldn’t use their Monday practice round tickets. Did Troy want them?
“It’s something very special for me to share with Jack,” he concedes, glancing lovingly toward his son. “This is a dream of mine to be able to actually come here and visit, bring a camera. The tournament’s the tournament, but this is something that was on my dream list.”
Masters week is about to begin
By 8:20 a.m., roughly 200 chairs are scattered about the roped off seating area. Double as many people mill around the grassy knolls in and around the grandstands.
Gail and Thomas Smith of Appling, Georgia settle into their chair-back spots overlooking the 11th green, six chairs in from the corner of the reserved seating section. They’ve waited decades and then some for their current view.
Thomas had been to Augusta a handful of times before, the first time for a trick shot exhibition in the early 1950s as a 7- or 8-year-old. Gail, meanwhile, moved to Appling — just 20-plus minutes down the road from the course — in 1987 from New Hampshire, but had never been able to nab tickets.
The married couple of 29 years was supposed to sit in these spots a year ago, but fan access was limited due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Those stubs were honored again this spring.
“I was (thinking), ‘Oh, I hope they give us another chance,’ ” Gail recounted. “So we did, and I was like, ‘Oh, my God.’ ”
As my watch ticks toward 8:30 a.m., another hundred or so chairs have been added to the growing gallery here on this scenic section of golf’s most prestigious venue.
Caddies for Viktor Hovland, Cameron Smith, Scottie Scheffler, Tony Finau and Bryson DeChambeau step from the 11th green to the 12th and the 12th to the 13th, rolling golf balls down the varying bends and dips on each putting surface. With every toss, they record notes and observations into their scorebooks.
I stuff the last bite of biscuit into my mouth, wipe off any errant crumbs from my khaki shorts and toss back a final swig of water. I walk toward the 13th fairway, weaving across the pine straw lining the right side of the hole.
Breakfast is over. It’s time I head back to the media center and resume my actual job responsibilities.
Masters week is about to begin.
This story was originally published April 5, 2022 at 5:00 AM.
