Standing near the first tee of Augusta National two weeks ago, I surveyed the vista and thought, "This is one of the most beautiful golf courses run ...
"By rich people with a history of racism and an overt policy of sexism."
That's the problem with golf. For the most part, the best courses are the most exclusive, once segregating their members by race or gender, and now simply by class. I've been privileged to play such great courses as Augusta National, Hazeltine and Interlachen, and I always feel like I should be using the servant's entrance instead of the front gate.
At this year's Masters, my friends and I in the press room thought it was a sign of progress that some of the people emptying the trash were white males.
I've been playing golf on and off for 10 years now, and the anniversary of my sorry attempt to master the world's most difficult game has, at least, given me reason to reflect on what I want to get out of my bouts of futile hacking.
And my wish list no longer includes playing the world's greatest courses, places where one guy wants to carry your clubs from your trunk to the curb, and another wants to carry them to the cart, and another wants to brush off your irons when you come off the 18th green.
With the golf season due to begin here any month now, here's what I want from golf this year:
A hexagonal driver. If pear-shaped is good and square is better, give me the hexagon.