A player may begin Amen Corner contemplating the evil that men do.
Standing on the tee at Augusta National’s No. 11, a Masters competitor has every reason to dread the entrance to the most marvelously named stretch of holes in golf. Changes to that hole over the past few years have been diabolical, a simultaneous lengthening and narrowing designed to make Tiger Woods just quit and take up tennis.
From there, the Corner — Nos. 11, 12 and 13 — sweeps around one far reach of Augusta National, bordering commoner’s ground at Augusta Country Club. It is the symbolic starting point of a Masters Sunday and the unofficial centerpiece of America’s most idealized course.
If you had only three holes left to play in your life and there was no pressure of a Green Jacket at stake, where better to call it a day? It offers the full pu pu platter of par — one each, a par 3, 4 and 5. There’s the world’s most glorified ditch — Rae’s Creek. A fine little stone bridge named after Ben Hogan. And when the azaleas are in bloom, they are so plentiful that you just might be able to spin a little honey while waiting on the tee at No. 13.
Everything you may have heard about Amen Corner, every whispered ode, may not do it justice. Man just doesn’t sculpt any better landscapes.
During the tournament, Amen Corner makes up the most remote part of Augusta National. The gallery ropes keep the fans 50 yards from the finish at No. 11 and farther yet from the 12th green and 13th tee. This place is like some protected landmark, too precious to be trampled by the saddle shoes of the masses.
Here the players are alone with their struggles, wrestling various figurative serpents in golf’s Garden of Eden. That remoteness only enhances the mystique.
For fans, the walk from the clubhouse to Amen Corner is the indispensable part of the Masters viewing experience. You wouldn’t go to the Vatican without checking out the Sistine Chapel. You wouldn’t hit Yellowstone without waiting out Old Faithful. Might as well just spend the day playing Putt-Putt if you get a ticket to Augusta National during Masters week and don’t hoof it to the Corner.
Ah, but the evil that men do. A few years back, in the name of aesthetics, the masters of the Masters took out a media observation tower that overlooked the 12th hole. I spent many idle moments there hiding from some deadline, just soaking in the spirit of the Masters.
I nevertheless have slowly adjusted to the view of heaven from ground level.
About the Author
