The distance between thrill and frustration is 867km. In Augusta, Georgia, a great trophy is chased. In West Palm Beach, Florida, an athlete hurts because he isn't involved in that chase. No player is ever ready to be a spectator.
We keep hearing about the Masters from the inside, from the qualified and the gushing, but what's it like to be on the outside, to have played it before but not made it this time, to chafe at the indignity of absence?