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The players, even the greatest of the greats, come and go, but the unmistakable magic of the season’s first major never changes.
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Published Apr 07, 2026 • Last updated 23 hours ago • 3 minute read
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Tiger Woods (L) and Phil Mickelson won’t be playing at the Masters this week. Getty Images) Photo by TIMOTHY A. CLARY /Getty ImagesArticle content
AUGUSTA, Ga. — Anyone who tells you this Masters won’t be the same without Tiger and Phil doesn’t understand the Masters.
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It’s always the same.
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The players, even the greatest of the greats, come and go, but the unmistakable magic of the season’s first major never changes. In many ways familiarity, reliability, and yes, tradition, are the secrets that players and fans try to put their finger on when explaining why the Masters holds such a special place in their hearts.
In a nod to another legend, this place has a bit of Chuck Norris in it: The Masters doesn’t miss you, you miss the Masters.
That’s the situation this week as the tournament is set to begin without one of Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson in the field for the first time in 32 years. For personal reasons — one very public and one private — these two titans that have won a combined eight green jackets and defined an incredible era of growth in the sport are on the outside looking in.
Tiger’s down and out
It’s a shame that things reached such a desperate level for Woods that any dream of a potential return to golf and the Masters has become a sub-plot to his story. It’s a shame this week because one of the great things about the power of Augusta National is its ability to leave your troubles behind. This is the place where players can check their baggage at the front gate, and drive down Magnolia Lane knowing that for one week they are insulated from outside noise.
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Of course, there is still a great chance for every player in the field to suffer a very public meltdown of the sporting variety, but the shenanigan-level during Masters week is zero.
During tournament rounds there are no jeering fans, no ba-ba-booeys, no mugshot T-shirts. Before and after rounds, media access is, shall we say, incredibly and efficiently organized to ensure a level of decorum rarely (actually, never) found at any other sports event. Needless to say, the players love it, and it’s not hyperbole to say many of the world’s best golfers still get goose bumps when their Masters invitation arrives each year.
The reverence held for the Masters Tournament and Augusta National by everyone in its orbit—and those watching on TV—is a true unicorn in modern times.
The power of tradition is a strange thing in this age of disruption where technology has hit fast-forward on nearly all aspects of life. These days sports and entertainment are now about convincing the algorithm and its consumers that you’ve created the next can’t-miss big event to be clipped and shared on social media. You’ve heard of play-offs, we’ve got play-ins! You like the Stanley Cup, now try the Four Nations Cup! World Series is great but have you enjoyed the World Baseball Classic? Sure, it’s only been around since 2006, but that’s older than an iPad so it must qualify as a classic.
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So much magic at the Masters
Don’t even get me started on new golf leagues.
The Masters Tournament, however, is disruption proof. There are no shortcuts to achieving what it has become in the minds and hearts of sports fans. Of course, this is also a story of power and money, and one that hasn’t always been pretty. But the depth and richness of the history that the Masters Tournament has rigorously and relentlessly built and protected is truly one of one.
It’s not that time stands still at Augusta National, far from it as you will see this week when honorary starters Jack Nicklaus, 86, Gary Player, 90, and Tom Watson, 76, get the Masters underway. Or when we watch a grey-bearded Sergio Garcia walk with more of a hunch than a skip these days. Or when it’s mentioned that 2015 winner Jordan Spieth is making his 13th appearance, or 2023 winner Jon Rahm is making his tenth.
The magic is that somehow the Masters seems to perfectly convey both the fleeting nature and the permanence of sport, and, in a way, life. Perhaps because it’s springtime and the world is in bloom, it manages to convey all of this without melancholy.
In a world that increasingly feels like the footings are shaky, permanence can be a powerful thing.
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