Sunday Check-in

On sunday, the day Morgan Pressel won in the California desert and Adam Scott won in Houston, Tiger Woods played a leisurely nine holes at Augusta National. He had no playing partners, and almost nobody was watching. Steve Williams carried the bag, and Hank Haney, Tiger's swing coach, carried an umbrella he did not need. When Woods came off the 9th green, there was a column of sweat between the shoulder blades of his shirt, and his shoes were speckled with green dust, spring pollen off the dogwoods. It was only Sunday, the Sunday before Masters Sunday, and the course was already hard and dry--just the way the Augusta bosses want it.

Last week in Augusta--maybe Al Gore was noting this too--the days felt more like summer than spring, and the golf-centric Augusta forecast for this week was predicting four dry days for the tournament. There's never been a dry year to truly access the total impact of all the course changes in the Hootie years: growing rough, planting trees, moving tees. The bright-red sign, weather warning, with two gray clouds split by a yellow thunderbolt, has been a regular presence on the scoreboards since 2002. There has been a drenching rain every year. This could be the April when we finally see the course as William (Hootie) Johnson and his architect, Tom Fazio, intended it. On Sunday, the Sunday before Masters Sunday, you could land a cut four-iron in front of the 1st green and watch it trickle off the back. Try making par from there.

Fast and firm--you may remember parched Hoylake at the British Open that Woods won last July--diminishes the importance of the driver and accentuates the role of distance control, lag putting, craftiness. As Tiger leads in those categories too, he should still be your man. But dry is good for Chris DiMarco, Luke Donald, Tom Watson and Mike Weir, among others. Larry Mize lives.

The National, of course, will be green. It's Augusta, birthplace of American Green. On your HDTV it'll be especially green. But the players' tees won't show any dirt when they pull them back out. It's close to bone dry underneath the green paint. The main sound on Sunday came from subterranean pumps sucking moisture out of the fairways.

The Sunday before Masters Sunday is a peculiar, pleasant hybrid of a day at Augusta National. There are no roars spreading across the grounds, not even polite applause. Phil Mickelson made a 1 on 16, and who saw it? No reporters, no cameras, no spectators. Until last week Tiger had never played on the Sunday before Masters Sunday, a day when the course is open to members, their guests and tournament contestants and closed to spectators. A woman in a straw hat was playing a few holes ahead of Tiger. On Sunday, 50 or so Masters competitors played. Some--Woods, Ernie Els and Charles Howell among them--played as singletons. Others, including Davis Love III and Gary Player, played with amateur friends. Some played with countrymen ( Jos� Mar�a Olaz�bal and Miguel Angel Jimenez; Brett Wetterich and Chad Campbell). Nobody was grinding. Love, as is his practice-round custom, chit-chatted his way around with his friend Peter Broome, a Titleist executive. The changes at 11 (wider fairway, fewer trees)? Unnoticed by Love's group. Well, maybe one guy was grinding. Tiger played two shots from the fairway bunker on one.

Sunday, by anecdotal evidence, was slightly busier than usual, but the six days before it were quieter. When the Tour stop was in Atlanta the week before the Masters, players would come over on Monday and Tuesday. Nobody, of course, commuted from Houston. Phil Mickelson, who last year won in Atlanta before winning the Masters, arrived at Augusta last Thursday, doing as much hanging out as anything else. He loves the place. With Tiger, it's harder to tell.

The Sunday before Masters Sunday is not about quotes, Golf Channel analysis, or "what-did-you-hit-into-13?" locker-room conversation. It's a chance to breathe. A reporter from The Augusta Chronicle ran after Tiger and asked if this year marked the first time he had played on the Sunday before. Yes, Tiger said. What did he like about it? "The peace and quiet," Tiger replied. What more needs to be said?

The Chronicle publishes its massive Masters preview section on the Sunday before Masters Sunday, with hundreds and hundreds of column inches devoted this year to Tiger; to Billy Payne, the new Augusta National chairman; to Mickelson, the defending champion; to Howell and Vaughn Taylor, Augusta homeboys--and on and on it goes. Breakfast can turn easily into lunch by the time you're done turning those pages.

A lady was selling the Chronicle on Washington Road on Sunday, but there were no Richmond County sheriffs patrolling the famous boulevard that fronts the National. Within the gates, things were mellow too. The gleaming, unadorned white golf bag of one Severiano Ballesteros, 50 and playing this year, stood on the sidewalk outside the bag room for half an hour, protected only by the four letters on its side, seve. Who would touch Seve's bag? Nobody who was there on Sunday.

Dean Wilson, a Masters rookie, shopped in the pro shop. Rory Sabbatini sat on a wood slab of a bench beside the practice putting green and enjoyed a smoke. The club caddies, and there were scores of them on the course, worked their loops with green satchels against their chests, the sacks filled with green divot mix.