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Masters loses some charm with some champs uninvited

Masters loses some charm with some champs uninvited

AUGUSTA, Ga. - A little slice of the Masters' charm will be missing this morning when the world's best golfers, and a few who are not, tee off at Augusta National Golf Club.

For the first time, at least for the first time that we know about, former champions who were invited to attend were uninvited from playing.

This tradition unlike any other, as CBS likes to call it, where a legend who has been dead for 30 years is as much a part of the story as Tiger and the azaleas, has long embraced its winners as threads that tie the game's past to its present.

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At some point, they drop out. The ageless ones serve as honorary starters. Many drop by for the Champions Dinner, wink and nudge one another when Sam Snead launches into one of his ribald stories, enjoy the exclusivity of their very special fraternity, accept their honorarium and go home.

But playing or not playing was always their choice. If they could walk 18 without their pulse rates racing off the chart, without hurting themselves or anybody else, preferably keeping their scores in double digits, they were welcome to a tee time during the first two rounds.

It all changed three months ago when three former champions with 133 Masters starts between them received letters from Augusta National chairman Hootie Johnson suggesting they no longer compete.

Doug Ford, 79, said he didn't mind being bumped from what would have been his 50th Masters, but he didn't appreciate being notified by letter. Billy Casper kept his thoughts to himself. Gay Brewer did not.

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“It was supposed to be a lifetime exemption,” Brewer, the 1967 champion, said of the spoils of victory. “I should tell them [when he's done playing]. They shouldn't tell me.”

The 70-year-old Brewer was so disturbed by the decision that he skipped the trip to Augusta for last night's Champions Dinner, saying he didn't feel welcome.

“We regret that someone, anyone, is not comfortable here,” Johnson said yesterday. “And if they are not comfortable and they are not here, we regret that.”

Johnson said there was “some ambiguity” about the intended policy of the tournament's founders, legendary amateur Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts, regarding the past champions' participation. He said a specific policy will be in place by this time next year.

“We made those decisions based on what we thought was in the best interests of the tournament,” he said. “We felt the actions we took were in keeping with the philosophy of what Mr. Roberts had laid out.”

Did he regret the manner in which the old-timers were notified?

“I don't look back.”

What would he think of getting the ancient past champions together on Wednesday morning for a special competition?

“I would not think of it at all.”

And why would that be?

“I don't have to give you a reason. Mr. Roberts wouldn't give you a reason.”

Mr. Roberts hasn't been monitoring the situation since taking a drop next to Ike's Pond almost 25 years ago.

But that's how they answer questions around here. It's part of the charm.

So was Doug Ford, trudging up the hill at No. 18, steeper every year, we suspect, to the warm applause of those hundreds of seasoned patrons perched on their canvas stools around the green.

So was Billy Casper, nearly as wide as he is tall now, but with that same sweet, short swing.

So was silver-haired Gay Brewer, who had a shining moment here as recently as 1998, when he matched par of 72 and rested in 11th place after the first round. He did one interview after another in his white sweater, pink shirt and red slacks and the ear-to-ear smile seemed frozen on his still-handsome, weather-beaten face.

There are, of course, two sides to every story, although the National's side is left to guesswork. So our guess is that club officials felt three one-time champions who had combined to make the cut just five times since 1980 - Ford not once since 1971 - might embarrass themselves on a course recently expanded to nearly 7,300 yards.

Maybe that's not the way Masters champions should be remembered. Maybe the National did them a favor.

Regardless, it was done poorly. And now the likes of Tommy Aaron, Charles Coody and - gulp - even Arnold Palmer might step to the first tee today wondering if one more bad round at this hallowed course, where the footprints of legends include their own, might bring the postman.

Dave Hackenberg is a Blade sports writer.

First Published April 11, 2002, 10:59 a.m.

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