Melancholy hangs heavily in the air. Listen closely and hear the sobs of regret whispering through the stately pines that outline those 6,985 yards of the game's spring-time mecca. But they subtracted by adding to one of the game's grand treasures. They tampered with tradition, an avenue often fraught with peril and especially at Augusta National, where nostalgia drips slowly and sweetly like molasses. Every swing is a swing against history, every step is a step against history, and change erases the wonder of measuring yesterday against tomorrow.
Comparisons become skin deep, standards no more than the last group's performance.
Thus, a more taxing challenge awaits the 96 golfers today, but different is not always better, and no where is that more true than at Augusta National. Messing with success. Yeah, this is the old fogy talking. This is the guy who decries the designated hitter, aluminum bats and instant replay. The lessons learned by the soft-drink manufacturer that tried to foist a new beverage on the public in the name of progress should not be forgotten.