AUGUSTA, Ga. — The public perception of the Masters doggedly remains one of adherence to rules and regulations, as though the tournament takes place in an Orwellian outpost on Washington Road. Then, over time — slowly at first, quickening now — the world itself became increasingly dystopian, which has had the effect of turning Augusta National Golf Club into a vanishingly rare bastion of standards, decency and basic decorum. In a world of Karens and Kens demanding to speak to management, this is about the only precinct where they dread drawing attention to themselves.
No one has leave to act like a jackass at the Masters, or to holler abuse as though they’re in the midst of a family brawl at an Irish wedding gone awry. This is the polar opposite of last year’s Ryder Cup at Bethpage Black. The demographics of the spectators aren’t much different, but the expectations are. Misbehavior has never marred a Masters, while not a single major event has ever emerged unsullied from Bethpage.
The Masters may be where the sport of speed walking originated, that comical penguin-like shuffle where the pace achieved belies the length of the stride. Running isn’t allowed on the grounds, which even the excitable kids at Sunday’s Drive, Chip and Putt understood. When they forgot, a polite but firm, “Slow down, young man” from one of the watchful officials was enough to bring sneakers to a screeching halt. Compare that to the WM Phoenix Open, where fans are encouraged to hurdle each other in the pre-dawn hours to secure the best spot to drink the day away.
The effect of the rules governing spectators was delightfully apparent in 2025. At the moment when Rory McIlroy sank to his knees, no one could be heard bemoaning a bet gone bad and everyone was actually watching, eyewitnesses to history rather than filming it on a screen…