There's been a lot of loose talk in the wake of Tiger's victory about how neither Duval nor Mickelson has the heart or the guts or the brains or [insert favorite anatomical term here], but I don't see it that way. Both Duval and Mickelson played spectacular golf, and they played with courage. The bottom line is neither one is good enough to beat Tiger. It is not because of holes in their personality or mental makeup, but, rather, their games. Despite some marked improvements, Mickelson's swing is still too loose, while Duval's short game is not dynamic enough. Maybe both need to dedicate their entire existences to improving, as Tiger has, but that might not be enough. Duval and Mickelson are great players. They simply have the misfortune to be playing in the era of the greatest player of all time. ...

I began my day by watching the last three groups tee off on 1, and then blazed down the hill to catch the approaches into the par-5 second. From the hill on the right side of the No. 2 fairway you can also monitor the action on the third hole. Then it's a quick jaunt to the grandstand above 3 green/4 tee. After the final group rolled through there I cut over to the hill at 6. For those of you who haven't yet made it to the Masters, this is the coolest little spectating spot on the planet.

The sixth hole, you will recall, is a steeply downhill par-3, with a roller-coaster, three-tiered green. Surprisingly, fans, er, patrons are allowed to sprawl out on the lush, grassy hillside below the tee. The players literally hit their shots right over your head. Because they are so elevated, conversation amongst those in the crowd flows as freely as the pink lemonade from a nearby concession stand. The balls just kind of materialize on the green, and only the body language of the players as they come down the hill betrays who has done what with their tee shots. From the hill at 6 there is also a beautiful view of the action at the 16th green.

Anyway, from 6 I speed-walked over to the eighth fairway, from where the eagle eyes can watch the second, and sometimes third, shots on this uphill par-5. Then things got serious, as I swerved over to the fairway of No. 10, my favorite hole at Augusta National. I was going to watch the last three groups roll through, but after Duval stiffed his second shot and made birdie, tying for the lead, I followed him into the Corner.

Even though O.B. Keeler basically invented Bobby Jones, the Masters doesn't go out of its way to help reporters do their job. There is no inside-the-ropes access, not even for photographers (!), and the less that's said about the press-room grub, the better. But -- and this is the biggest but this side of Darren Clarke -- there is an amazing little grandstand set up just for the press in Amen Corner. In front of and to the right of the 12th tee, you're practically in the drop circle, and the view is utterly amazing: up the 11th fairway, all of 12, and then down and around the crook of the gorgeous 13th hole. As I sat there on Sunday afternoon, the warm Georgia sun alighting my cheeks, watching history unfold from the best seat in the house, I couldn't help but reflect on how blessed I am as a golf fan. Of course, the mood passed and I began jotting down sardonic barbs in my notebook.

The only spectating spot in championship golf that compares to the Corner in terms of drama is the grandstand at the 15th hole. That was my next destination. The very top row of this massive structure is reserved for writers and Augusta National members, so when not shamelessly sucking up to my seatmates, hoping to get invited for a game, I watched the tournament get decided. The 16th hole is where Duval and Mickelson both lost their chances to don green formal wear.

From atop the bleachers you are roughly at the same altitude as the apex of a 16th tee shot. It's a spectacular vantage point, and I'm pretty sure I knew before Duval did that his tee ball was fatally long. Once the final group passed through 16 I speed-walked up the hill to stake out a spot behind the 18th green. It was an epic day, and not one I'll soon forget. ...

Hiding behind Harvey Penick's Little Red Book, I couldn't help but spy on Vijay as he browsed the bulging bookshelves. Sadly, he showed no interest in Bud, Sweat & Tees. In fact, the only kind of book that captured Vijay's fancy were those obnoxious, touchy-feely, New Agey tomes about the metaphysical aspects of golf. You can imagine the subjects -- golf and feng shui, golf between the ears and tripe like that. He inspected each and every one of these books as if it was an ancient text that would magically reveal the secrets of the game to him. At his feet Vijay made a pile of about a half-dozen titles to purchase. I was astonished. Who knew that one of five or six best golfers in the world needed such brainwashing? It just so happened that adjacent to the golf books was a section on martial arts. Vijay grabbed a couple of thick training manuals to go along with the rest of his reading, rounded up his wife and son, jumped in his courtesy Escalade (emblazoned with the Augusta National logo) and zoomed off. ...

Sports Illustrated senior writer Alan Shipnuck periodically waxes about life On Tour for CNNSI.com. Click here to send him a question or a nice, friendly comment.

 

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