AUGUSTA – Thursday’s rain delay at the Masters was a godsend. Sure, the first round of the great tournament was thrown all off schedule, likely to be incomplete by day’s end. And the poor elders who traditionally start the event with a ceremonial tee shot – Jack Nicklaus, Gary Player and Tom Watson – were kept hanging around for hours like patients in the gerontologist’s waiting room.
But it created a perfect window for gnome-shopping. And what at any Masters could be more important than that?
For reasons unfathomable, the Masters garden gnome has become a lasting sensation since it was introduced in 2016. It is the holy grail of the fan experience. The players have the green jacket. The patrons have a fat, stubby, white-bearded piece of cheap statuary (lists for $49.95).
Getting one is the trick. The lines to get in the huge merchandise building near No. 1 fairway build to Disney-esque lengths as soon as gates open at Augusta National. Early this week, some waits to get in have approached two hours. And everyone immediately rushes the gnomes (limit one per customer), meaning they sell out each day in a flash. There is a strategic scarcity at work here.
Ah, but where some saw the rain delay as a nuisance, I saw an opportunity.
Media types generally can get in before the general public. But normally they are barred from the merchandise area until after the first patrons have started queuing up. The rain delay scrambled everything. So 15 minutes before the rescheduled opening of the gates, I hopefully made my way down to the first tee. And, lo, the guard let me in to be among the first in line when the doors to crass-consumerism heaven opened.
“Don’t get in my way when it opens,” I warned the guy next to me in line, only partially joking. The hunt for the ultimate Masters souvenir takes place in a cruel and competitive jungle.
At 9:30 a.m. sharp, the grand opening. “Where are the gnomes?” I shouted at a worker at the door.
“Hard to your right,” he said, having no doubt answered that question 10,000 times already this week.
And there they were, a stack of 100 or so against the wall, already mobbed by others who had played the rain delay gambit. This year’s version is done up in blue plaid slacks, a blue Masters sweater, striped tie and white Masters bucket hat. He’s carrying his own clubs. I guess gnomes don’t get caddies here.
Not the highest form of art. But maybe it’s good for scaring off the chipmunks from the flowers for a day or two.
Credit: Staff photo
Credit: Staff photo
I snagged one with the wild-eyed zeal of a frat boy going for the last of the Jagerbombs.
Gnome sweet gnome.
But, honestly, the best part of the experience was the walk back to the media center after the purchase. The looks of admiration and envy on the faces of the fans just walking onto the grounds let me know I possessed a precious treasure. There was a little more pride in my strut this morning.
“Oh, you got here early, didn’t you,” someone muttered.
“You bet I did,” I muttered back.
And the appreciation didn’t stop at the door of the media center.
“You got a gnome, good for you!” said a peer at the stairway.
“Can I take a picture of your gnome, please?” another Irish journalist asked.
“Kind of a personal question, isn’t it? But sure,” I told him.
I wanted to announce to the world that I had great gnome game.
(OK, confession time here. I was buying the gnome for someone else. I would get a restraining order if I had to in order to keep one of these things 500 feet from my house. But it was a rush to have something that so many people wanted, if just for a while.)
Credit: Photo by Chip Towers
Credit: Photo by Chip Towers
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