I think the most beautiful thing about The Masters tournament is that once you win, you’re in for life.
One of the coolest aspects of the tournament is seeing all of the past winners come back and compete year after year. It doesn’t matter how old they are or how competitive they’ve been in other tournaments. If you’ve won a Masters Tournament before then you’re allowed to come back and compete in every Masters Tournament after that.
Not every golf tournament works this way. For most other tournaments you must qualify to be able to compete. You have to be playing at a top level to be extended an invitation to play.
But there is no expiration date on the rewards of a Masters victory.
This too is The Master’s Invitation to us – once you win, you’re in for eternity. Continue reading
As I enjoyed the Labor Day holiday this past weekend I had a chance to read an article in my hometown paper where the great columnist Bill Kirby shared lessons from some of the many jobs he worked over his life. I thought it would be interesting to go back and do the same for my years in the workforce.
Though I’m only 29-years-old at the moment I’ve amassed a good size resume and I believe there’s at least one lesson to be learned from every job I’ve had over the years. So, with full credit to Mr. Kirby for the idea, here’s one lesson from every job I’ve had since I started working at age 16:
1) The Masters Tournament (First week of April 2002):
The Job – 4 straight 14 hour days in a concession stand at the most popular golf event in the world.
The Lesson – The paycheck is not always worth the work. Continue reading
This is the first time in over 20 years I won’t be spending Masters Week as a resident of Augusta, GA. I have to admit I’m missing the sights and sounds of the spectacle. It’s the biggest holiday on the calendar for the city.
If you’ve never lived in Augusta, there’s nothing really to compare Masters Week with.
I guess the closest thing would be to when a city hosts an event like the Super Bowl. But even then it’s a different city every year.
For 7 days every year the city of Augusta totally transforms. Washington Road becomes the golf capital of the world. Golf Carts are lined up in front of every business. Even members of One Direction show up.
Corporations take over abandoned buildings and parking lots and turn them into pop-up party tents and memorabilia shops. Thousands of residents flee the city, renting out their homes to tourists and travelers and the golfers themselves.
For one week the city of Augusta becomes a spectacle. Then, the Monday after the tournament, everything goes back to normal. Continue reading
(Earlier this year I had the incredible opportunity to interview Robert Jones IV, the grandson of legendary golfer Bobby Jones, for a feature story for Faith Magazine. The story graces the cover of the March/April edition of Faith Magazine. You can pick up a copy of the free magazine at grocery stores across the CSRA or check it out on the Faith Magazine website. I’m so proud of this interview that I wanted to share a preview of that story with the POP GOD audience. Enjoy this introduction, and check out the full story when you get a chance. )
Bob (as Robert IV prefers to be called) knows the stories well. He can tell you the story of all of his grandfather’s trophies, including the one he broke as a child tinkering around on vacation at his grandparents’ mansion. In addition to his full-time calling as a psychologist, Bob’s other profession is preserving the legacy of Bobby Jones, a man he called “Bub.”
Bob remembers a different side of his grandfather. He saw more than the legend whose name is etched into the foundations of the city of Augusta and the game of golf. He saw more than a statue or a logo or a mythical name. He saw a man who struggled from a crippling disease, who fought valiantly to survive and whose faith kept him on course when his life was fading. Continue reading
Bogey. Birdie. Duffer. Mulligan.
The world of golf is full of funny terminology.
I think the funniest of all is the word par.
I know par is not just a golf term. The definition of par is simply “an equality in value or standing”.
But when you hear the terms above par and below par, your mind travels to golf – especially if you live in Augusta.
When you say something is below par, you typically mean it’s below average. If you tell someone the lunch you had was really below par, you’re basically telling someone not to eat where you did.
This has always been confusing to me. Because in golf it’s the complete opposite. Continue reading
The Augusta National Golf Tournament, better known as The Masters, begins today. My hometown of Augusta, GA has been overtaken by golf fans from across the world.
But there are some who don’t care about the Green Jacket at all. If you’re one of them, you know it will be hard to get away from Masters chatter. You won’t be able to ignore the coverage on ESPN and CBS all weekend. Talk of Tiger Woods will surely take over your Twitter feed.
If however you simply can’t stand golf and need to know the trick to ignoring The Masters, I have the answer for you:
Live in Augusta.
Really. Continue reading
(click here if you can’t see the Youtube clip above)
Why are we talking about practice?
After all – isn’t life just one big practice round? Aren’t we just biding our time until the next life comes around?
If the next life after this is so important, then why do we spend so much time talking about and worrying about this life?
There must be a point to this practice round. There must be a reason why God placed us in this world. There must be a reason why He hasn’t rescued us from it yet.
Maybe this practice round really counts. Continue reading
There I was, just an ordinary kid, on the precipice of the most important night of my life: the fifth-grade dance. If I had learned anything from watching hours of “Saved By The Bell” every morning before school, it was that true love is born at school dances.
Desperately desiring a girlfriend, I knew I needed to enhance my appearance for this night. This was my first school dance. It had to be perfect.
I picked out a snazzy shirt from my closet. I doused myself in drug-store cologne. I slicked my hair back and sprayed it down until it was brittle.
I looked good.
My best friend and I gave each other pep talks in the car on the way to the dance. I arrived with confidence, ready to find true love and dance the night away.
Instead, I spent the night stuffing my face with cookies and candy bars, standing scared against the wall for two straight hours. Continue reading