On a cold and windy evening in Nashville,
I searched for a kindred spirit to chase a childhood feeling…
“Is there anyone out there?” I asked the pro shop attendant.
“Not for a while,” he said while not taking his eyes off the TV behind me, watching a replay of the final round.
Dark clouds filled the evening sky, it was 50 degrees (and dropping) while the wind whipped out of the north at over 20mph. It was truly an awful day for golf in Nashville.
But on the evening of Tiger Woods’ 5th Masters victory, I set off to the local muni looking for a kindred spirit.
Do you remember that feeling?
“We were kids back then, thinkin’ we could live forever,
We were kids back then.
We were wild and free, takin’ on the world together,
We were kids back then.
That’s how we’re always gonna be”
–Kids, by Ben Rector
Remember when we were kids and we’d go outside to recreate the sports moment we just watched? For me, a kid born in April of 1990, I was in my driveway as Kobe, coming off a screen from Shaq and shooting that patented fadeaway. Or I was Marvin Harrison catching corner routes thrown by Peyton Manning—played by my father (more times than you could imagine). For you, maybe you were Michael Jordan, or Jerry Rice, or—for the generation behind me—Lebron.
But for anyone near my age of 29, all backyard-golf recreations turned us into Tiger Woods, because he was the author of all of our golf memories. All of them.
Do you remember that feeling?
When Tiger holed the final putt on Sunday to win the 2019 Masters, his 15th major—and first major since 2008—that feeling crept up on me for the first time in 15 or so years. I wanted to go play golf and recreate some of Tiger’s shots at my local muni.
Even with the garbage weather outside, I had a feeling I wasn’t alone.
The Search for a Kindred Spirit
When I walked down the first fairway I thought surely someone would tee off behind me. As I got to the green, the wind howling like Nashville had been transported to the coast of Scotland, I thought maybe I’ll catch up to someone. Walking up to the second green with no one in sight in any direction, I realized that I might be alone in this childhood feeling. What the hell was I doing out there in this weather? I considered leaving and forfeiting the $13 greens fee, but then I heard a ping from the 5th tee box.
I wasn’t alone.
“Could this guy be out here chasing that childhood feeling, too?” I wondered as I waited by the 6th tee to join him for the last four holes, hoping he was ok with that. As he walked up the hill to the 6th tee box I saw a Masters logo beaming from his pullover and hat like a light house guiding lost ships into harbor.
Hell yes. I found my guy.
His name was Nate, and he graduated from Belmont in 2012, the same year I graduated from Tennessee. He owns and operates two companies in town; one is a merchandizing company for touring musical artists, and the other is an apparel company that has grown like wildfire the past couple of years.
Considering that he was wearing two Masters logos, I didn’t feel the need to ask if he watched. Instead, as we walked down the 6th fairway, all I had to say was, “How awesome was today?” He grinned and said, “I just flew in this morning from Augusta. I’ve been there all week.” Too perfect.
A college friend of his is from Augusta, and he has gone every year since 2015, attending the event via their family passes. This week for Nate was filled with rounds at the nearby Augusta Country Club in the mornings, and going to the tournament in the afternoons. I have that down in my notes as “not terrible.”
Having a suspicion that he was recreating the Tiger childhood feelings too, I asked what brought him out here on an awful weather day.
He said he hadn’t seen his fiancé all week, so they had planned to come out and play together this evening after knocking out a couple hours of cleaning around the house. “When I landed this morning it was 75 degrees outside. After watching Tiger and cleaning the house it was 50 out and she didn’t want to go anymore, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was coming out here today.” Sounds like two of us were buzzing off of an old school Tiger high.
However, a certain phrase he said there caught my attention, just like hearing a song from a “Now That What I Call Music!” album playing through the speakers at Walgreens, because I hadn’t heard it since the late-2000’s: “After watching Tiger.” That’s what we used to say when we were kids. We would never ask buddies if they watched the tournament—we’d say, “Did you watch Tiger this weekend?” I felt more and more teleported back to the 2000’s as we went along.
Nate had a nice bag and clubs to go along with his smooth swing, so I asked him when he started playing. “Not until I was 15 or 16. I always played baseball growing up, but then around age 15 I started going to this 9-hole golf course in a pasture back in Hunstville, Alabama where I grew up. We’d go after baseball practice all the time back then.”
Knowing that it would’ve been around 2004-2006 when he was 15 or 16-years-old, I asked him what his first Tiger memory was. For me, it was watching the 1997 Masters with my dad as a young Tiger torched the field. For Nate, “It was probably the Masters where that chip barely rolled in on 16,” he told me, which happened at the 2005 Masters. I asked if he was a huge Tiger fan, and he said, “Yeah, but isn’t everyone else who’s our age?” That was like asking someone in the 1960’s if they were into the Beatles—it’s just assumed.
I see it as no coincidence that he got into golf right around the same time as Tiger’s iconic chip-in on 16 at Augusta on his way to his 4th Masters victory. We all wanted to be like Tiger, and here we were on the afternoon of Tiger’s 5th Masters victory—the first in 14 years—out playing our muni at the age of 29 because we were fired up by Tiger. I had found a kindred spirit.
Time Machine
Tiger’s win on Sunday was special for all of the historical reasons, but for people my age, his win provided a time machine for a day trip back to our childhood. Back to watching the man in red make his playing partners wilt. Back to standing from the couch for every putt. Back to high-fiving my older brother, who happened to be in town for the final round this Sunday. Back to openly rooting for other golfers’ shots to find the bottom of the lake, and raising our fists with joy when they did. Back to wanting to grab my clubs and go directly to the course to try and recreate the shots that Tiger hit.
For 12 hours on Sunday, Tiger’s victory was a trip back to a simpler time when we were the age of his son, Charlie, wearing our red shirts and black Nike hats too, dreaming of making the last putt on a Sunday at Augusta to win the Green Jacket.
On a cold and windy Sunday evening in April, Tiger Woods inspired Nate and me to tap back into that childhood feeling, wanting to imitate our hero for the day.
Like the Ben Rector song ends…
“We were kids back then, and that’s how we’re always gonna be.”
Thank you, Tiger.