Other than Christmas week, for me, there's one other week when everything is right with the world.
It's the second week of April in Augusta, Georgia where the best of the best convene to compete in the world's greatest invitational golf tournament, The Masters.
It is easy to make the case that the Masters is the world's greatest brand. Everything about the tournament -- from its understated promotion to the grounds, the players, the patrons, and the course itself -- is gracefully positioned, explained and heralded in the most elegant ways to global audiences of every make.
The purse is never mentioned during the tournament broadcast. Commercial sponsorships are limited and "lexicon rules of the broadcast" are established for CBS Sports, the broadcast's network. Pimento cheese sandwiches wrapped in green wax paper still cost $1,50 and the green paper beverage cups are devoid of advertising, as is the entire course and grounds.
Legends are honored and golf's rising global stars are given their place and their time in the continually unfolding Masters story. It's a story that continues to grow on the fairways of golf's past because it is there that the game's structure, civility and orderliness produce a timeless and clear path to the future.
Mssrs. Mackenzie, Jones, Roberts, the Masters membership, and the players etched in tournament lore, have done it right. They've protected the past and used it as a unique platform to honor and build the future of the game.
And what's not to love about a place where three pivotal holes on the second nine are aptly named Amen Corner?