The Masters isn’t just a golf tournament. It’s hardly about the golf at all. The golf almost gets in the way. Why? Because the Augusta National Golf Club is the star of the show and everyone knows it. The golfers just happen to be passing through.

Is it a golf tournament? Sure, but a journey to the Masters as a patron isn’t about going to a golf tournament. It’s about the way you feel when you’re there. Augusta National casts a very big shadow. It speaks to you. Like hospitality and charm, it’s a whisper. Yet it doesn’t need more than that. It has your attention. You close your eyes and, all of a sudden, you feel it. And honestly, that feeling starts way before you ever set foot on the property. It’s the Magic of the Masters.

You fill out that ticket lottery application in June. You know the odds—less than one percent your application was accepted email. Doesn’t matter. You still do it. Why? Because just maybe, your number gets called. Maybe you just want to feel the magic one more time. Does an Augusta daydream in June let you feel the magic. Close your eyes. You bet it does.

My brother used to say “Never schedule anything the first week in April. Never. You never know when you’re gonna get the call.” That open block on your calendar? You look at it and you feel the magic of the Masters. You don’t even have a ticket and you feel it? Close your eyes. You bet it does.

When you know you’re going? You count down the days. You talk about it subtly—you don’t want to rub it in anyone’s face who isn’t going, but YOU’RE GOING TO THE MASTERS. You’re a middle aged guy and you plan your outfit. Months in advance. You talk about it like it’s a pilgrimage. Because it is.

And then… you’re there. Game day. Showtime. Time stands still and accelerates at the same time.

You walk through the gates and the grass looks Photoshopped. The air smells like spring. Everything’s green and perfect and quiet—and for a second, you just stand there. Soak it in. Your senses are way beyond overloaded. You’re on hallowed ground, and you feel it.

Something about the place… it speaks. Like a story you can’t stop listening to.

And when the day’s done, and the sun’s starting to dip low behind the pines, you don’t want to leave. You walk a little slower to the car, hoping you’ll catch one last glimpse of Amen Corner through the trees. You need to hear one more birdie roar from a couple miles away. And just like that, it’s over. You feel full, yet sad. Exhilarated, yet depressed. Intoxicated, yet not exhausted. Hopeful there’s another visit in your future. Augusta National shared herself with you today. And you felt it.

And if you’re lucky enough to find yourself there during that first full week in April, I promise you this…

You’ll feel it too.