The most important thing is, you gotta want it less. Remember going on dates in high school? O.K., not a good question for you, but for a lot of us, the more anxious you seemed in high school, the less chance you had. Same deal at Augusta. Some of the members didn't like the way your candidacy became so public. You're not even supposed to know you're up for membership. They all think of it as the world's plushest tree house. They like to put an arm on you, drag you up and rub bloody thumbs together. Act surprised.
You do have a few things going for you. You're in a nasty rassle with the U.S. gubmint. The boys'll like that. You play fast. Bad, but fast. That's good, too. I figure you'll be in by the time you're 50. They encourage all members to help out with the Masters. So first thing you do is sign up for the concessions committee. No reason in particular, except I just love the idea of you sticking little $1 price tags on pimento cheese sandwiches.
All I ask is that, when you do get in, have me down. After this column, you're my only shot.