Throw away the fact I am an avid golfer, or as avid as a father of 4 small kids can be, and I look forward to this weekend every year. This isn't just another weekend in April to me, it is the weekend of the Masters. It is when I stream the live coverage on my work computer Thursday and Friday, and am glued to coverage over the weekend, awaiting to see who will don the green jacket this year.
However, the Masters has taken a new shape in my life recently, which has nothing to do with golf itself, and to say it has changed me forever might be an understatement.
Let me start from the beginning. About 10 years ago my wife and I were introduced to a new couple who were friends of friends. Situations like this can be awkward, but we got along great with this new couple. The introduction turned into us developing a thriving relationship with Chris and Tara, and before you knew it weekends were filled with hiking, cookouts, cards and sporting events together.
Years passed, and news broke of Tara and Chris separating. I can't say I was stunned at the news, but when you are friends with two people who decided to go their separate ways, it can be tough as you are pulled in different directions. However, I can't lie and suggest we both didn't side with Chris in this situation.
It was a beautiful Saturday when we called Chris to see if he wanted to go for a hike. Give him a chance to get out of the house and clear his mind of all that was going astray in his life. The hike ended, and we were left with that awkward moment leaving, which is normally when we used to make plans to do something after our exercise. I don't know what compelled me to say it, but I remember saying to Chris, "Hey, if you wanted to come over this afternoon, we are going to order pizza and are going to watch the Masters. If you would like to come over, you are more than welcome."
Chris wasn't much of a golfer, let alone someone who would sit down and watch a tournament, but he said the invitation sounded great, and he brought over a six-pack of beer to go with the golf and the pizza. That Saturday was the first time Chris and I watched the Masters together, which became a yearly tradition.
A lot changed throughout this process. The number of kids running around the house during the tournament slowly increased, Chris and Tara reunited, then separated for good, Chris met Tina and got married, Chris started a new job sending him around the world for the Volvo corporation, and even when Chris was diagnosed with ALS -- the tradition continued.
We watched Bubba Watson win his first of two green jackets, Phil Mickelson claim two of his three championships, and Adam Scott finally break through as a major champion in the sport. However, Jordan Spieth's 2015 championship was special. Not because of the 21-year-old defying logic and reasoning by winning the green jacket, and not because it was not just the last Masters I watched with Chris, it was the last time I saw my friend.
We watched the third round (Saturday) in 2015, and it was a perfect day. The kids running around his house, Chris in his usual great spirit, despite being a prisoner in his own body, and the golf was fantastic. We brought over dinner, and it was an all day affair. To be quite honest, this was what our tradition was all about. Sitting back, taking it all in and just enjoying the moment.
Now, almost a year later, I look back on this memory and realize I learned much more about life than I did golf throughout this tradition I had with my best friend. I learned how it is important to keep traditions, as silly as they may sound. How sometimes just being, and not doing, can be as gratifying and fulfilling as anything else. For me, I now watch the Masters in a different way. I most absolutely watch, but the entire event means so much more than it did just a few years ago. I remember how important life is during this time, how precious every moment we get with loved ones are and, most importantly, never pass up a chance to just sit back and smell the roses, or azaleas since we are talking about the Masters.
I remember leaving Chris' house after that third round in 2015. I walked up to him and touched his arm and asked him if he needed anything, and he said, "I'm good man, thanks." I told him I would talk to him later, and the family went on our way. It wasn't long after that when Chris lost his battle with the wicked disease of ALS. In retrospect, maybe it was good that day was the last memory I have of him, and his words might have meant a lot more than how I simply took them at face value.
Chris was good. He was content, and certainly at peace, with his impending fate. I miss a lot about my friend, but on this weekend for the rest of my life, the Masters will be a lot more than just a golf tournament. It will be a yearly reminder for me of friendship, tradition and life.
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