My Weekend on Tiger's Trail

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Getty Images A day after one of the most operatic Masters finales in history, Condoleezza Rice on the weekend’s heartbreaks and highlights.

Long before I picked up a golf club four years ago, I watched the Masters every year. In 1968, I was watching with my mother when Robert De Vicenzo signed an incorrect scorecard and was disqualified. Mother was outraged because she thought that the mistake might have been a result of the language barrier.

So when I was able to get tickets for my first Masters, I was really excited. I’ve been to Super Bowls, the Final Four, the U.S. Open Tennis Championships—nothing matched the anticipation of my first Masters.

When Tiger’s ball hit that tree at 18, I felt like Joe Montana had just thrown a pick in a two-minute drive in the Super Bowl.

As the time approached, my assistant Anne said, “They want to know who you want to follow.” Borrowing language from Anne’s generation, I said, “Duh?”

I know Tiger from our Stanford connection. I once sat with him at a Stanford-Duke basketball game. Stanford won on a buzzer-beater, and we stormed the court together. With that kind of bonding, whom else would I pull for? I had decided that if Tiger did not win, I would champion the cause of Phil Mickelson (met him at the White House and he’s a really nice guy); Stewart Cink (met him in Atlanta and he’s a really nice guy); or Anthony Kim (haven’t met him but I like his swagger).

Upon arrival, Augusta took my breath away with its physical beauty. It exceeds your expectations. The people are very kind. Clearly, the faces at Augusta are changing as America is changing. But there is a timelessness to it that is very nice. Everything runs on time at Augusta but nothing is hurried.

We set out for the course and I soon learned that you don’t “follow Tiger.” People were already parked at the first tee two hours before his start. My friends said that it’s more like being swept up in a wave of humanity when you “follow Tiger.”

So we decided on a different strategy. I was lucky to have good friends who are members of Augusta: Jim (who really knows the course) and Brad took us under their wing. We went to venues rather than follow a single golfer. The 16th tee was great because a golfer must carry the water onto a green that, if not hit perfectly, will throw the ball back into the water or into the sand. Perhaps it’s a sign of my own obsession with the game now that I spent the time there plotting my own strategy for playing it. “A 5 wood—too much, might go in the bunker. A 7 wood—not enough, will go in the water.” That means I don’t have a club that will work.

When Tiger finally made the leader board after a pretty mediocre start, the excitement was palpable. Everyone was waiting for his “move.” We walked back. I said hello to Ernie Els and Stephen Ames (new golfers for me to pull for in the future). Tiger was at the practice putting green. “Do you want to say hello?” Brad said. I knew enough to know that Tiger, especially a struggling Tiger, wouldn’t have appreciated the distraction.

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