The University of Tennessee at Chattanooga’s McKenzie Arena is the sight of the annual Southern Scuffle collegiate wrestling tournament. The answer to the trivia question seen on the scoreboard? The University of Missouri.
My son, Jake, wrestled all four years of high school.
He had no prior experience wrestling, but felt like it’d be a good way to lose some weight, get stronger, and be a part of a team during his high school years. To his credit, Jake was clear-eyed enough to realize he wasn’t likely destined to play basketball or baseball in high school and never really expressed any interest in football, or soccer for that matter.
As far as his goals with wrestling: Mission accomplished. He emerged from his senior season looking quite different than the kid who walked through the door in ninth grade.
He didn’t experience a lot of individual success on the mat, but was part of a District Championship team and was a pesky competitor in the ultra-competitive 138 through 150-pound weight classes.
With that as the backdrop, when my traveling partner Wayne’s buddy Todd – whose Chattanooga home we’d be staying in while in Tennessee for the NCAA Football Championship Subdivision title game – mentioned the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga was hosting the annual Southern Scuffle college wrestling tournament I was totally down with attending.
Furthermore, because of the connection wrestling has to my son and our family, I became increasingly more comfortable including this on my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events journey. If you know anyone who’s sat on gymnasium bleachers for hours on end every Saturday from late November through mid-March to watch your kid on the mat for a few minutes of action you know how infectious the wrestling bug can be. Plus, my great-aunt Vi and uncle Bill were longtime Chattanooga residents. My family paid them a visit in my early teenage years and it seemed appropriate to return to the city as part of the this journey.
I had not been to gym to watch wrestling of any sort since Jake’s final match until I walked through the doors of UTC’s McKenzie Arena on January 4, 2026.
What is the Southern Scuffle?
Penn State’s Josh Barr, right, shakes hands with Maryland’s Branson John before their 197-pound semifinal match.
The short answer is that it’s an annual wrestling tournament dating back to 2003 that’s hosted by UTC the first weekend of the new year.
The slightly longer answer is that for this iteration there were 26 teams represented. That doesn’t necessarily mean the entire team traveled to Chattanooga for the event, it simply means at least one wrestler for those 26 schools was entered. Three of those 26 finished among the Top 10 nationally at the 2026 NCAA Championships in Cleveland, including the champion of each, Penn State.
Among the Penn State wrestlers was sophomore All-American Josh Barr. He entered the Scuffle as the No. 1 seed at 197-pounds and he did not disappoint, running roughshod through his five opponents en route to the title.
A product of Davison (MI) High School, Barr was familiar to Todd whose son was a former All-American at North Carolina State and current assistant coach for Penn State’s conference foe, Northwestern University. Barr later went on to win the 2026 NCAA Championship at 197 after finishing as runner up as a freshman.
Scuffleodians!?!
Some school set up shop in front of the UTC Moccasins’ athletic history mural. Is that a toaster under the ‘H’ and a half-gallon of milke in front of the Coleman cooler?
I’d not been to a college wrestling match/meet since my days at Eastern Michigan University. One of my freshman year dorm floor mates, Mark, was on the EMU wrestling team. He didn’t see much action as a freshman, but through the years when his balky shoulder allowed, he found his way onto the mat.
I recall a few of us turning out for Mark in our latter years on campus, but I’d not been to a multi-school meet such as the Southern Scuffle.
In many ways, it was not unlike my experiences through my son’s high school wrestling years. Schools carved out their spots along the concourse where they had inflatable mattresses and chairs to rest and food tables to maintain their strength and energy.
As I wandered about McKenzie Arena I saw wrestlers sleeping, grabbing bites to eat, chatting up fellow competitors, visiting with family or friends, watching video of either their previous matches or, perhaps, an upcoming opponent?
And my soundtrack as I enjoyed this walkabout? Well, it was McKenzie’s public address announcer who insisted upon referring to those of us in attendance as “scuffleodians” and, as the wrestlers prepared to square off would say “let’s scuffle.”
A Little About McKenzie Arena
Clockwise from upper left, the view from the tippy-top of McKenzie Arena (it was a long way up there!); some of the UTC athletic banners adorn the rafters’; the dedication plaque from 1982; the 1992-93 Moccasins finished 26-7 overall and 16-2 in the Southern Conference, winning both the regular-season and tournament championship before losing to fifth-seeded Wake Forest in the NCAA Tournament; the exterior of “The Roundhouse” promotes an upcoming SoCon game with Furman.
I found myself fascinated by host site of the Southern Scuffle, McKenzie Arena. Originally known as UTC Arena when it opened in 1982, it was renamed in 2000 following a donation from Toby McKenzie and Brenda Lawson from nearby Cleveland, TN.
More informally, the building is known as “The Roundhouse” for its round shape and for the railroad tradition in the city (e.g. the Chattanooga Choo-Choo or Glenn Miller’s ode). A railway roundhouse was the name of the building used to move train cars onto different tracks.
I made the climb to the top of “The Roundhouse” and – I cannot lie – felt a bit queasy near the top of the place. One, it was dimly lit upstairs, and two, the stairs ascended at quite a steep angle without the aid of handrails.
Suffice to say, I was delighted to make it back to the concourse in one piece and with my breakfast still in my tummy:-)
Look at me joining the fun outside Lambeau Field. (Photo by Dan Graf)
I defy anyone to name a United States’ stadium or arena from MLB, NBA, NFL, and/or NHL that is as unique as Green Bay’s Lambeau Field.
I’m a pretty well-traveled person who’s been to his fair share of major sports venues across the country at this point and I’m unsure any of the 110 others are quite like Lambeau.
I suppose a case could be made for Fenway Park or Wrigley Field that were wedged into neighborhoods of major U.S. cities when constructed during a different era.
That said, I don’t recall walking next to someone during my recent trip to Boston whose friends were tromping through some poor schmo’s front yard on his way out of the game.
Which is exactly what happened to my friend Dan and I as we left Lambeau on December 7th following the Packers’ 28-21 victory over the Chicago Bears.
As we made our way to our car on that frigid northeast Wisconsin night, I noticed a trove of fans shuffling over the snow and grass of … I looked up and remembered where I was … someone’s yard!
(Sorry about that.)
Only in Green Bay does this happen!
A city that is nearly half the population of the next smallest in North America with one of the four major sports franchise (Buffalo’s next smallest), the quaintness of a major stadium sitting amid a residential and mixed-use area is truly worth the trip to Lambeau Field alone.
I’ve tried to explain to friends who’ve never been and I’ll do so again here: It’s like driving down any major two- or four-lane road in your community, past the gas stations, past the subdivision entrances, past the quick service restaurants, past the strip malls, and then – suddenly – there’s a historic NFL stadium on your left with a couple statues of iconic coaches from days gone by.
Crazy!
Why the Packers and Bears?
As I began plotting the 80 locales/events for my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project, I knew a trip to Green Bay was in order.
Furthermore, I really wanted to experience it in December or January, what with the – cue your best John Facenda voiceover – “frozen tundra” and all (fun fact I just learned, frozen tundra was originally a reference to an Oakland Raiders at Cleveland Browns game). Additionally, I’d hoped to see the Packers host one of their longstanding rivals either the Bears or the Minnesota Vikings.
When the NFL released its 2025 schedule back in May, I was pleased to discover the Bears would pay Green Bay a visit in early December.
After discovering Dan, my long-ago work colleague from our days in Fairbanks, AK (now there’s a place that’s C-O-L-D!) who’d long-since relocated to his native Wisconsin, was able to attend the Bears-Packers’ game with me, it was a done deal.
I would get to experience famed Lambeau Field in December.
But First, Dan’s Basement
I knew Dan to be a big Packers’ backer – and all things Wisconsin, really – from our days working together. What I did not know was the magnitude of his support for his home state.
And then he led me to his home’s basement while noting that his wife, Jen, has essentially ceded control of that level to him in exchange for decorating the remainder of their lovely colonial situated between Milwaukee and Madison.
When I say it was a sight to see I mean it was a sight to see. My words will not do it justice so I’ll let this video that Dan allowed me to capture attempt to do so.
A look at my friend Dan’s Badger State Sports Shrine.
As I hope you’re able to tell there are years (and likely thousands of dollars) devoted to curating the collection of memorabilia and tchotchke in his basement.
The coup de grace, really, was his theater room within which he would normally view the Packers in 4K. I was going to be pulling him out of those cozy confines the next day for a game whose game time temperature was forecasted to be in the low teens.
I felt slightly sorry, but not sorry enough to boycott watching the Big Ten Football Championship game in said theater room. And, if I’m being honest, it was surrounded by all the Packers’ paraphernalia that I first believed Bloomington might have a chance at being its own version of title town in the forthcoming College Football Playoff.
An added bonus to staying at Dan’s place was seeing the Big 10 Championship Game in his theater room. A miniature Lambeau Field (pre-renovation) is in the foreground.
Game Day
In ideal conditions the drive to Green Bay was just under two hours, but an overnight dumping of snow in Dan’s neighborhood meant for a slightly longer commute but we were still there in ample time to secure a prime parking spot and wander about Lambeau’s footprint.
It really is sort of carved out of a neighborhood or, perhaps, a neighborhood sprung up around it? Either way, it was somewhat disorienting to walk by house after house and then suddenly have a green monolith rise from the asphalt.
Unsurprising to anyone, despite it still being late morning, the grills were already functioning at a high level and tailgaters were out in force for the game that was flexed a couple weeks prior to the late-afternoon television window.
Clockwise from upper left, it was a gorgeous afternoon to check out Lambeau Field from all angles; across the street is the Don Hutson Center; believe it or not, this is the smaller of the two Green Bay Packer Team Stores; Dan and I with the Vince Lombardi statue; me and the Curly Lambeau statue
Ever the trooper, Dan took a lap of Lambeau Field’s exterior with me. We dipped into one of the team stores to – believe it or not! – pick up one piece of Packers’ clothing my friend apparently did not have: a scarf. He said he wanted an extra layer of protection from the chill.
We also paid homage to the three statues in front of this revered ground. One of the namesake coach for the stadium, Curly Lambeau, another from the man who turned the place into Titletown, Vince Lombardi, and a final one that pays tribute to the stadium’s famed “Lambeau Leap.”
Warmth, Glorious Warmth! (And Food😊)
With a Lambeau lap complete and not wanting to lug my merchandise purchase into the stadium (the gates weren’t open yet, anyway), we made our way back to Dan’s vehicle, stashed our stuff, and headed out in search of food.
While I’m certain had we asked enough tailgaters we would have found some benevolent Wisconsinite who’d offer us a spare Bratwurst but we opted instead for the indoor (re: warm) dining comfort of a Buffalo Wild Wings.
The joint was jumpin’!
So much so, that when asked by the host if we were OK sharing a table with another 2-top, we readily agreed.
Our newfound friends were a grandfather-granddaughter pair. A high school senior from the Milwaukee area, she was attending her first Packers’ game courtesy of her grandfather (a retired attorney with Harley-Davidson) who said he takes his grandchildren on a senior year of high school weekend getaway of their choosing.
The two seemed to be enjoying themselves, though he might have been dining at BWs for the first time ever based upon his order (burger, fries, salad, and 15 wings). She ordered her own meal, which meant grandpa was taking a container of about a dozen wings back to the car for the hotel.
Dan and I later agreed that we were both flabbergasted when we heard to his order and were unsurprised when a large portion was left uneaten.
Game Time
Clockwise from upper left, my view of the American flag at midfield during the performance of the “Star-Spangled Banner;” the pregame view behind me to the east; the gate we entered; the view the south where an additional deck was added several years ago; the view across the field to the west as the sun slowly sets; the Packers are happy to note their successful history; some of the names and numbers of Packers’ Hall of Famers on the north face of the stadium.
Our stop for lunch meant forgoing a visit to the Packers Hall of Fame, but that means there’s a reason to return, preferably in the fall to check out the magnificent colors of nearby Door County.
By the time we returned to the main parking lots they were overflowing with revelers, most of whom were clutching a beer in a green, yellow, or blaze orange-mittened hand. I’m fairly certain few of these fans were feeling the full effects of the rapidly declining temperatures.
Then again, most of the folks attending Packers’ December home games are well-accustomed to these elements. In fact, I felt somewhat out of place without a pair of bib overalls, but felt my base layer, fleece-lined pants, and heated vest – along with typical winter outer wear – would be enough to keep me warm.
I was not wrong.
Though the feels-like temperatures by game’s end during the 6 o’clock hour dropped to 5-degrees, I never felt uncomfortably cold.
Solid Seats and a Fantastic Finish
The flags were unfurled to celebrate the Packers’ final score of the night.
When I shopped for tickets on the secondary market for this game, I didn’t want to be in the recently added upper ring beyond the south endzone. In looking at images of the stadium they seemed so far away, not unlike many of the other massive NFL stadiums. I wound up nabbing a pair in the northeast corner which put us on the Bears side of the field, but also provided some glimpses of the low winter sun as it set beyond the far side.
As for the game, it harkened back to days of yore. In a rivalry that dates to 1921, the two teams were scheduled to play each other twice in a 3-week span during the regular-season’s final five weeks and with first-place in the NFC North on the line, there was a fair amount of feeling each other out during the early going.
Following a scoreless first quarter, the Packers took a 14-3 lead into the locker room when quarterback Jordan Love found Bo Melton for a 45-yard touchdown. To see Melton score his second career touchdown in person was pretty cool as I spent a few years serving alongside his father, Gary, on the National Education Association’s Board of Directors.
As is fairly typical for NFL divisional rivalries, the Bears made it a game in the second half, eventually tying the score at 21 apiece with eight minutes left in the game. Green Bay bled as much clock as possible before scoring a go-ahead TD with just over three minutes left, setting up a frantic finish.
The Bears drove to the Packers’ 23-yard-line by the time the 2-minute warning arrived. Then, rather inexplicably, they ran the ball on three straight plays gaining a total of nine yards, setting up a fourth-and-one from the Green Bay 14-yard-line. Both teams called a time out to increase the tension even more among the 78,124 frigid fans.
Chicago quarterback Caleb Williams faked a handoff (of course, right!?!) and rolled left, lofting the ball toward the back of the end zone for tight end Cole Kmet, instead his pass found the hands of Green Bay defensive back, Keisean Nixon, which sent the majority of the crowd into a frenzy and heading out into that cold dark night.
The 210th all-time meeting between these two went to Green Bay.
The 211th, two weeks later, went to the Bears, 22-16, which helped secure Chicago the Division Title and home field for the 212th meeting in the NFC Wild Card Playoff where the hosts rallied from an 18-point halftime deficit to win, 31-27.
A last glimpse of the iconic Packers’ logo as we made our way to the parking lot. Note the house in the foreground.
Become part of the journey by joining the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events’ $80 for 80 Circle of Champions.
Greetings Sports Fans!
Perhaps it was that riveting start to horse racing’s Triple Crown season this weekend in Louisville, but whatever the reason I’m delighted to note that the home stretch is within sight for the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events’ project.
As a quick refresher, upon retiring as a K-12 educator two years ago I embarked upon a Jules Verne-inspired odyssey to get to 80 of the most iconic sporting events/venues the world has to offer by my 60th birthday (June 2027). As I write this, that number is at 53 and will soon become 54.
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Just stopping by to remind you that Masters Month officially ends at midnight EDT, Thursday, April 30.
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Who had college volleyball on the list of I’d attend as part of the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events?
In early September 1985, my much younger self trundled into the offices of Eastern Michigan University’s student newspaper, The Eastern Echo, and boldly completed an application to be a sports writer.
I knew not what it might entail, but at that moment in time my professional goal was to be a sports journalist. I was majoring in Written Communications with a focus on journalism and was minoring in Telecommunications.
This seemed the logical next step having been on campus for all of 24 hours.
Getting paid – albeit a mere 30 cents a column inch – was appealing to my 18-year-old self who dared to dream of big-league press boxes in the not-too-distant future.
I heard back the next day from the Echo’s Sports Editor, Greg, and I was asked to come in for an “interview.” I place quotation marks around the word interview because I think I walked upright, had opposable thumbs, and passed the mirror-fogging test. That meant I was hired.
Greg informed me that my beat would be the EMU women’s volleyball team and that I should get over to its offices at Bowen Field House and introduce myself to Coach Frank Fristensky.
Here’s as good a place as any to note that, while I’d played volleyball as part of my high school phys ed class and in the backyard at family functions, I knew nothing about college volleyball, anyone affiliated with the EMU team, or how to cover it.
Yet there I was, sitting across from Coach Fristensky introducing myself and telling him that – for better or worse – I was his guy for the coming season.
And with that, my entrée into the world of NCAA Division I women’s volleyball had begun.
It was a fantastic first beat and one that I happily kept the next year despite moving up to the role of Sports Editor. That said, I’m fairly certain I’d not attended a college volleyball match following my departure from the EMU campus a couple years later.
Until …
When I zeroed in on attending the Chicago Bears at Green Bay Packers NFC North matchup in early December as part of the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project, I also began searching for other events I could attend while in the land of cheese and beer.
The opening weekend of the NCAA’s Division I Women’s Volleyball Tournament was likely to occur that same weekend I was there and, much like many other NCAA Olympic sports, women’s volleyball opening weekend matches were hosted on campus by the top sixteen seeds in the tournament.
The University of Wisconsin had hosted the year prior and, based upon its ongoing flirtation with a Top 10 ranking, I had every reason to believe the Badgers would host again this year.
And they did!
Sadly, though, the way the schedule was set and my planned travel dates, I’d only be able to see the host site final and not the two opening round matches.
I secured my ticket the Monday of that week and found myself more than passively checking scores throughout my Thursday afternoon/evening to see who I’d be watching the next night.
Historic UW Field House
Clockwise from upper left, trophies are displayed through the UW Athletics windows en route to the Field House; so is a statue of former football coach and athletic director, Barry Alvarez; my first look inside UW Field House in close to 40 years; proof that it really is an old building; leaving no doubt what I was here to see; the bowels of Camp Randall Stadium en route to the Field House.
I’d previously been to a men’s basketball game at UW Field House as a member of the Echo staff when Eastern played at Wisconsin.
My recollection was that it was not unlike EMU’s Bowen Field House and nearby Michigan State’s Jenison Field House in that it was a massive facility that could be – and often times, was – used for various events.
I remember when I first saw Bowen that I imagined a time 40-plus years earlier during World War II that there’d be no trouble repairing fighter aircrafts in the facility. It just seemed so massive.
I love stepping into historic spots such as these and as I parked my car and began walking through the bowels of Wisconsin’s Camp Randall Stadium (which sits adjacent to the Field House), I grew increasingly excited to once again step into this venerable old barn.
Carolina on my Mind
From left, the North Carolina Tar Heels line up prematch; the Tar Heels’ logo adorns the scoreboard during warm ups; North Carolina coach Mike Schall provides some direction; UNC’s Bridget Malone with the spike.
The opponent in this Round of 32 match, it turned out, was the 11th-seeded University of North Carolina. The Tar Heels upset sixth-seeded Texas-El Paso, 3-1, the night before to face to the third-seeded Badgers who’d beaten Eastern Illinois, 3-0.
There was a small number of Tar Heels’ faithful congregated behind the Carolina bench, but the rest of the Field House was filled with red and white clad Badgers’ fans.
Also in attendance was the Wisconsin cheer team, a raucous student section, Bucky the Badger mascot, and the University of Wisconsin’s Varsity Band, all of which served to remind me I was no longer in 1980s Bowen Field House watching the Hurons.
Getting the Lowdown
Clockwise from upper right, plenty of volleyball banners adorn the rafters at UW Field House; Bucky Badger with the headstand; the UW Varsity Band kept the proceedings lively; the Badgers’ big three of Carter Booth (left), Mimi Colyer (center), and Charlie Fuerbringer get ready for the next point; Wisconsin coach Kelly Sheffield lets his team know what the plan is; Fuerbringer serves; coaches Sheffiled and Schall embrace pregame; the UW Student Section was raucous all match long.
As I arrived at my seat, a single on the aisle, my neighbors to my right could not have been any kinder.
The two ladies greeted me with “We wondered who would buy one seat?”
I explained the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project, my pending trip to Green Bay two days later, and how I’d always had a soft spot for women’s college volleyball dating to my days on the beat at Eastern Michigan.
I copped to my full ignorance about the Badgers’ program – aside from Big Ten championship and a National Championship banner hanging from the rafters – and the pair was kind enough to bring me up to speed during pre-match warm ups.
My new friends informed me the best player on the floor tonight was likely to be Wisconsin senior outside hitter Mimi Colyer, a transfer from the University of Oregon. Middle blocker Carter Booth, the 6-foot-7 daughter of 10-year NBA player and 5-year Denver Nuggets GM Calvin, also had the potential to be a difference maker. Both gals really liked sophomore setter Charlie Fuerbringer, the daughter of a pair of Division I volleyball players, including dad Matt who is was a USA Men’s National Team coach and head coach of Madison’s League One Volleyball squad.
Springboard to Success
Clearly, based upon their hosting this first weekend, the Badgers were favored and they took care of business, defeating the Tar Heels 3-0, needing a bit of extra time to win the final set, 27-25.
The players and coaches were lauded by the home faithful as they gathered at center court to move their name on the giant bracket. It was anticipated (coming to fruition the next day) that Wisconsin would hit the road for the next weekend. They were off to Texas to play for a spot in the semifinals against first, Stanford, and – ultimately – host Texas.
Consider me an interested observer from my easy chair. My investment in that pair of matches paid off after watching the team I’d just seen up close a week prior defeat both second-seeded Stanford (3-1) and top-seeded Texas (3-1) for a trip to the final weekend in Kansas City.
Alas, the Badgers’ run ended there, coming up a few points short in a 5-game thriller against top-seeded Kentucky in their semifinal (25-12, 22-25, 25-21, 24-26, 13-15).
A final post-script, I discovered shortly thereafter that Mimi Colyer was the first player selected by the Dallas Pulse in the 2025 Major League Volleyball Draft.
I guess those ladies I sat next to in Madison knew their stuff:-)
Wisconsin’s Mimi Colyer serves during the second game.
After being shutout in the annual ticket lottery for each of the past dozen times I’d entered, apparently 13 was – in fact – my lucky number!
And, since I’m currently more than skosh behind in publishing posts for each of my events, I figured I should get my readers something about my Masters experience before, you know, the 2026 Presidents Cup is contested in late September😉
Clockwise from upper left, this sign says it all; the azaleas were in bloom; captured a shot of my dad in front of The Masters scoreboard near the first tee; 2-time Masters’ champion, Jose Maria Olazabal was on the course during my time out and about.
Here, then, are a few of my initial thoughts about time spent on the grounds at Augusta National Golf Club a week ago today.
Like the other major North American golf events I’ve attended to date (U.S. Open, Ryder Cup, Presidents Cup, and Solheim Cup) the distance from the parking lot or the shuttle bus drop off to actually, you know, being able to see golf, is a long, long way. I’d estimate the distance from the north parking area at The Masters (props on the free parking and plentiful handicapped parking, by the way!) to the Tournament Practice Area was easily a quarter mile. To the clubhouse and the first tee/18th green area was closer to a half to three-quarters of a mile (the latter part up a significant hill). All of which was doable for Wayne and I, for our octogenarian fathers (one 82 the other 86) it was a lot.
Of those North American events I’ve attended – and I’ll even throw in The Open Championship in Troon, Scotland, in this one as well – none have operated with the level of efficiency that The Masters did. From parking, to the queue to enter the North Gate, to the toilet lines, to the help in the merchandise stores, and the concessions area, I’d say the motto of this tournament was next-in-line service. It was all a well-lubricated machine. To wit, as we stood in an unholy long line to visit the men’s room before making our way to the store, I overheard the fellas in front of us say, “At any other event, a line this long would take 45 minutes to an hour. I bet we’re through this in like six minutes.” They weren’t too far off. It was closer to eight minutes from queuing to exit, but my goodness did that line move! No fewer than four staff in the men’s room keeping things organized – and tidy – certainly helped the cause.
The only thing I can compare the beauty of the grounds to is visiting a Disney theme park. The meticulous care that is visible in creating an inviting environment for the human senses is evident throughout. The white sand in the bunkers, the pine straw, the magnolia trees, azalea bushes, and the finely manicured grass is like nothing I’ll likely see again unless I’m lucky enough to go back.
Of the five previous major golf events I’ve attended on this journey, Augusta National was the first – and will be the only – host site that is a fixed location. That is, it’s played at the same spot year after year. That’s allowed the course to do things the other host sites have been unable to do. Such as permanent camera towers and broadcasting spots, a bona fide store (not a massive temporary tent), permanent structures for concessions and picnic areas, etc. All of it helped create the sense that this was not the first time the hosts had done this, which, in fact, it has not. This was the 90th Masters and I’ll wager there’s another 90 in store … at least!
Egg Salad Sandwich vs. Pimento Cheese Sandwich – These are the two that are always mentioned when the conversation turns to the food at Augusta National. First, it’s the price (just $1.50 a sandwich!). Second, it’s the sandwich itself. Well, I tried both and while it may be blasphemy in the American South to say this, I preferred the egg salad, but then again, I am not a big cheese guy (though my kids would say I’m cheesy to be sure). I’d also offer that while good, the egg salad at Augusta National does not compare to those you’re able to get at convenience stores in Japan. Please, 7-Eleven, stock your American stores with the pillowing goodness that is the Japanese egg salad sandwiches!
One of my father’s to-dos while on the grounds was to see Magnolia Lane. Unless we were provided membership status for the day, the only way to accomplish this was to have our Patron Photo taken at Founders Circle which sits directly in front of the clubhouse at the end of Magnolia Lane. No personal photography was permitted in this area so you’ll have to take my father’s word for it when he said, “It was longer than I thought it would be.”
The famed oak tree between the clubhouse and the first tee is as massive as I’d heard. It was so big, in fact, I had a difficult time capturing all of it in a photograph. Estimates place the trees age at about 170 years old.
Amen Corner (e.g. Holes No. 11, 12, and 13) is really out there. I suppose I knew this, but having walked out to see one of the most famous parcels of golf course property in the world, I better understood what one of The Masters’ Radio talking heads meant when he noted it was almost a spiritual space for the players because it was, relatively speaking, a quiet spot amid an otherwise chaotic Augusta National during Masters Week. There’s not a lot of room for patrons out there so it lends itself, I’d wager, for moments of introspection on the part of the players.
Would I do it again?
Let me ask you, does Rory McIlroy seemed destined to win a few more majors now that the shackles of having never won The Masters was lifted a year ago?
The answer, to both I believe, is yes!
Certainly, having now been there once, I feel as though I’d have a better plan in place for how to enjoy my time on the property, whether watching a tournament day or just being present during a practice session.
I will, most assuredly, enter the annual ticket lottery again … and again … and again … and hope that lightning strikes at least once more.
In the meantime, I have a couple of mementos I’d love to give away to readers such as you. I have a pair of Masters ball markers and a pair of Masters logo golf balls that really should get into the homes of fellow sports fans. To enter, I humbly request the following: a $5 or more contribution of support to The Sports Fans Project by the end of Masters’ Month (e.g. 11:59 p.m., April 30). You’re able to make said contribution at this link. I will conduct a random draw of all entries in early May.
Clockwise from upper left, Brian Harman gives hope to all the diminutive golfers out there; the concession prices are always right at Augusta National; players walk toward the 16th green after practice shots and a golf ball skipping exhibition; the player on the left is Bryson Dechambeau heading over the bridge at No. 13; the 170-year-old oak tree stand sentry outside the clubhouse; I do not tire of seeing this photo of my dad and I in Founders Circle; which way to go?
My dad and I in front of the clubhouse at Augusta National Golf Club. (Photo by The Masters)
My number finally came up this year having been drawn in the annual Masters’ Lottery.
I received the notification as my family and I drove down a mountain near Estes Park, CO, in July 2025 and – quite frankly – have been nervously excited about the experience ever since.
When I registered for the aforementioned lottery, I selected every possible session (Augusta National Women’s Amateur, three Masters‘ practice days, and all four competition days) and when I learned I’d been selected for Wednesday, well, I attended Wednesday.
This bonus Conversation is just my dad and I (my friend Wayne and his father also attended) briefly discussing what it was like to be there as Event No. 51 of my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project. (Spoiler: It did not suck!)
Albeit a tad road weary, here are some initial thoughts about our time on at Augusta National Golf Club during Masters Week.
Word has it, Augusta National Golf Club is even prettier in person than on our screens. (Photo August National Golf Club)
In all likelihood, as you read this, I’m about to enter Augusta National Golf Club for a day on the grounds as the place (and players) readies itself for The Masters which begin tomorrow.
It will be Event No. 51 of the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project and I really don’t care that I won’t see any competitive golf (aside from some Par 3 Tournament action, possibly).
It’s Augusta Frigging National!!!
I’d entered the lottery for 13 straight years and, finally – mercifully! – I did not receive a “We’re sorry” letter this time.
So the kid who grew up in a mobile home in Adams County Indiana and his octogenarian father (along with another father-son pair) will walk into this place I’m told is even more magificent in person than today’s High Definition screens show.
Cell phones are strictly forbidden for us patrons so you won’t see the usual updates from an event on my social channels. Instead, you’ll just have to wait until I figure out how to get the photos off my son’s digital camera onto my computer.
The opening tip of the 2025 Indiana 4A Boys Sectional Championship at Muncie Central Fieldhouse featured Braylon Mullins (24) on the far side of the court.
My phone began blowing up nearly as soon as I left the parking lot at Thunderbowl Lanes in Allen Park, MI, and, for good reason after watching the frantic finish of Connecticut’s 73-72 East Regional Final victory over Duke.
As I watched Mullins’ shot a few times, I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d seen it before.
I had.
It was March 8, 2025, and my cousin, Brandon, and his daughter, Calah, were attending an Indiana Boys’ 4A Sectional Final at Muncie Fieldhouse. The game that night featured Greenfield-Central and Mt. Vernon. Mullins was a senior at Greenfield-Central while Mt. Vernon featured a junior who’d already committed to Purdue, Luke Ertel. It was the final night of Event No. 14 that took me to Indiana to watch as much basketball as I could fit into a week.
The two were throwing haymakers at one another most of the game (Mullins finished with 38 points, Ertel with 36), but it was this sequence at the end of regulation that I recalled 55 weeks later watching Mullins drain that 35-footer to set up a homecoming for him next week in Indianapolis at the Final Four.
Quite a sequence to close regulation at that 2025 Sectional Final. Note Braylon Mullins’ last-second triple that would have won it for Greenfield-Central.Look familiar?
My final betting slip from the madness of March in Las Vegas.
I’d considered not putting any wagers on Sunday’s action. There really weren’t any men’s or women’s games that we’re talking to me as I reviewed the matchups.
Oddly, though, as a lifelong Indiana Hoosiers’ fan, I found myself returning time and again to the Purdue-Miami (FL) game. I wasn’t convinced the Boilermakers would cover the seven points they were giving the Hurricanes, but I really liked the look of the 148 Total Points. Surely Purdue’s senior trio of Braden Smith, Fletcher Loyer, and Trey Kaufman-Renn would go to work against one of Division I’s worst 3-point defenses.
As a happy bonus this was the day’s first game, meaning I’d be able to cash in the winning ticket before heading to the Las Vegas Strip for the lions share of my day.
The wager was placed; I took the Over.
Get busy everybody!
My friend Rob, a high school math teacher, outlined what would be needed by quarters of the 40-minute game to get to 149 points. Somewhere north of 37 points would get the job done.
Things were just ducky through the first three-fourths of the game and I figured a walk in the park was occurring.
Then the defense in both ends ratcheted up, the pressure mounted, and invisible lids were placed on both baskets.
When Loyer hit two free throws to give the Boilermakers a 79-69lead with 12 seconds left, I figured an uncontested Miami layup (and a wager win) was in my future.
Inexplicably, Miami began to dribble out the clock then had a change of heart when Tre Donaldson drive to the basket for a layup only to be met with some half-hearted defense from Purdue causing him to miss.
Ballgame!
And a push. All I was getting was my wagered amount returned.
Here’s what transpired Sunday:
$10 wagered on the Over of 148 Total Points by Purdue-Miami (FL) – 79-69 final for 148 points (A tie! $10 returned.)
For the four days, nine total wagers were made totaling $90 of the $100 I’d allocated myself. The outcome was $17.50 to the good.
