'I don’t treat Augusta National like every single footstep requires soft piano music in the background'

My name came out of the writers’ lottery to play Augusta National. The last time I took my clubs out of the garage, I was trying - unsuccessfully- to sell them at a yard sale. But I still needed, in no order, spikes, balls, tees, a glove, pants, a windbreaker, clean underwear (multiple pairs just in case) and a towel. To cry into. Steve Politi on his Masters disaster.

I am looking out at the most feared view in golf from the 12th tee box at Augusta National, praying quietly to the golf gods on a course that already had brought me to my knees.

Please. Let me have this. Just this.