AUGUSTA, Ga.—Two of the guys I have been fortunate to stay with in Augusta at the annual Masters Tournament are Ricardo from California and Ken from Georgia. Also Bill from Georgia, but Bill isn’t here this year because his family is visiting from WAY out of town and Bill is a nice guy. We dearly love the Bill.

Of course I call him Bob, though I am unsure why. Maybe for the same reason they call me Terry. Ricardo we call Paco because it is politically incorrect and he doesn’t mind. (He is pictured above on the right during the Par 3 Contest, when he worked No. 4 tee box and got major TV time, which a friend back home in California took a picture of.

(Check him out! Ricardo! My man! Nicklaus, Player and Watson each made 2 on No. 4 because Ricardo knew what he was doing and took care of business. So proud…Good man.)

I call Ken “Sheriff Taylor” because he runs Swainsboro and because I enjoy tricking him into thinking I think he’s important, which he is of course not. We would not be rooming together if we were anything above worthless.

All these gentlemen are volunteer marshals at the annual Masters. They come here on their own dime and work all week. And they DO work. It’s long days out there, manning holes and helping this massive gallery of patrons. But it’s one of their favorite weeks of the year, a story for another time.

A quick tale you’ll enjoy:

Rafael Cabrera-Bello, a professional golfing Spaniard who I spent time with in the Merchandise Building Tuesday (I know; it was weird), is 10 shots off the lead in the 2018 Masters after being in third place and just three shots back after Thursday’s opening round. He’s shot 69 and 76 in the first two rounds. His 69 was aided by a scrambling par on 18. Here’s the story behind the story.

My man Rafael sprayed his tee shot into the pine trees. His family was following him. So they were close to his golf ball and gathered around it as he made his way there from the tee. And the great part is this: in Spanish, they were saying to each other how badly their family member was “screwed” and in trouble and there was no way he had any sort of second shot. I know this because Ricardo speaks Spanish and works No. 18 and was Right There. So HE knew what they were saying and the family knew what each other was saying but the rest of the gallery didn’t know.

So beautiful.

My boy Rafael, buoyed by my pep talk in the merchandising building Tuesday and by the talent he has as a Professional Golfer, was NOT screwed (wish I knew how to type that in Spanish) because he DID have a shot—not a great one—but his approach was sweet and he made the putt.

Bueno!

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