Van Sickle: Are you getting used to the Players in May? It's been several years since the move from late March. Personally, I think it's lost some buzz, or is that just me?
Garrity: It's just you. I much prefer May. It bridges that long gap between the Masters and the U.S. Open. You need a monthly biggie from April to August, otherwise your casual fans lose the plot.
Shipnuck: The month after the Masters was deadly. I like the rhythm of the new schedule.
Anonymous Pro: As a player, I think the old schedule was more exciting. The Players was the first big event of the year, and if it were still played in March, McIlroy and Westwood wouldn't miss it. May has helped how the course plays tee to green—although I think the bermuda greens are worse now—but has totally killed the buildup. I hate to agree with Van Sickle, but the Players is totally buzzless. The players don't talk about it at all.
Hack: I do think there was something special about winning the Players in March. There was a reason you had Fred Couples and Davis Love III and Greg Norman winning it—they were preparing for Augusta. The Players was a nice appetizer. For me, the Players was the first time in the year I got to see pine needles. I'd be thinking about Augusta that whole week. Part of me misses that buildup.
Shipnuck: There's no doubt that the amphitheater at 16 and 17 is one of the great spectator spots in golf. I always wander out there. There's fun golf plus the carnage that we all enjoy, but the relentless hype by the Tour and NBC is off-putting. It's like new money. They have to flaunt it and tell you how great they are. If they would just relax, the media types might warm to it more readily, but to be spoon-fed, "It's so great, it's so wonderful," you naturally want to throw up.
Van Sickle: We have a new member of the majors club. Is Charl Schwartzel the real deal?
Garrity: Everything I saw Charl do in Augusta says yes. His swing, his course management, his nerves.
Van Sickle: He's not considered a big hitter, but look what he hit into 18 on Sunday—a freakin' pitching wedge. That's supposed to be a long hole, boys.