Rich Hofmann | Augusta National now hazardous to eagles

AUGUSTA, Ga. - Arnold Palmer began to shuffle his feet into a stance. It was 7:45 a.m. and Arnie was performing as the Masters' honorary starter for the first time. He looked ahead of him, at the thousands crowded around the first tee and on either side of the fairway. The club estimated that 10,000 people arrived here early, many just to see this.

Palmer looked ahead and maybe, just maybe, looked back at the same time.

"It's sure pretty, isn't it?" Palmer said quietly, to no one and everyone, before taking his ceremonial hack.

It is pretty, but it is different. If anyone doubts that, the hours after Palmer teed off yesterday provided all of the necessary evidence. This once was a place known for thrilling golf, for enticing the risk-taker in all of us with great rewards, with the promise of eagles.

If only they could clear the little brook that runs in front of the 13th green, a tributary to Rae's Creek . . .

If only they could avoid the pond and the bunker that guard the front of the 15th . . .

It is what made this place great - history, yes; tradition, yes; but the roars most of all. But yesterday was so quiet. The

Tiger-proofing of Augusta National has stolen the voices, muffled the sound. As Tiger Woods said the other day, talking about the years before the major course changes were made, "Back then, the golf course wasn't like this and eagles were being made. Thirteen and 15 and all of these different birdies were being made . . . "

Yesterday, for most of the day, Rich Beem was Lucky Lindy, the lone eagle. Then, late in the afternoon, David Howell joined him. Beem eagled 13, Howell eagled 15, and that was that.

From 1992 to '96, the last 5 years pre-Tiger, the tournament averaged 25 eagles a year. The next 5 years, that number dropped by 10 percent. The 5 years after that, it dropped by 10 percent more. Now, this. Since the Masters went to bentgrass greens in 1981, the fewest eagles in a

tournament has been 12 in 1982. This year could see a new record.

(Insert endangered-species joke here.)

Talking about the cheer he heard at the 13th, Beem said, "I think it woke up a few people." And he was right. It really had been kind of quiet here, kind of uneventful, kind of Augusta-meets-Valvano: survive and advance to Round 2.

There is a big grandstand that overlooks both the 13th green and the 14th tee box. Sitting there for an hour or so, taking the early afternoon sun, looking down on one of Augusta National's famous scenes, is not exactly tough duty. This is the par-5 whose green is framed by a riot of azaleas, and with the little brook running below the front edge.

Sitting down at the 12th, watching the indecision on the tee as the wind swirls and dies and swirls again, is a favorite pastime. But sitting at the 13th green used to be a different experience altogether. It was where the nerve of a man was revealed. Would he lay up in front of the water or would he go for the green in two?

You would sit there and watch the swing for your first clue. If you saw a great, violent slash from down in the fairway, there would be this unique sound, kind of a combination of a yell and a collective inhaling. Would he make it and be putting for eagle? Would he come up agonizingly short and see his ball track helplessly back into the drink?

Those were the moments you remembered. Yesterday, with the tee farther back now - on land purchased from a neighboring country club - and with a breeze in their face, it was reported on TV that only about 8 percent of the players got there in two.

Sitting there yesterday, four groups went through in about an hour; 12 players, 12 layups. Asking the older guy sitting next to me how much longer he'd been there, he pulled out his draw sheet and pointed back about five more groups.

Anybody go for it?

"Nope," he said. "All layups."

All layups - but whatever happened to the trifecta, bay-bee? What happened?

Tiger happened. When he won in 1997, the course played at 6,925 yards. The next year, they grew some short rough on the course for the first time, the so-called "second-cut." Then came the big yardage increases (along with some new, strategically placed trees). The course played at 7,270 yards in 2002. It plays at 7,445 yards now.

Still, for about 5 straight years, wet

conditions had tempered the changes,

allowing for more scoring opportunities on softer greens. They all said, "Wait till we have a dry year." Well, here we are.

"We wish for dry, firm, fast conditions and the scoring average is about 76,"

Howell said. "So, you know, be careful what you wish for . . .

"We all know this course is going to play really tough when it's dry and firm and fast. You know, it's a major championship. It's arguably the best course in the world. It's that beautiful mix between the most beautiful place in the world to play golf and also the most difficult. So I think that's the great contradiction with Augusta and that's why everybody loves it so much."

But there was another reason, too. There was the element of reckless endangerment when someone stood in the 13th fairway and took a big swing. If that isn't gone now, it's going. *

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