I consider myself a “lucky guy.” I have beautiful healthy kids, an awesome wife, a job I don’t deserve, a great beard, a real #blessed existence.
There is one area of my life where I am criminally unlucky, The Masters Draw. Want to get sad? Plug “your application was not selected for tickets” into your email search bar and take the only stroll commoners like we will ever take down Magnolia Lane.
Why am I saying all of this? Because if I won tickets, you could guarantee the golf gods would shut it down. This is my cross to bear and I carry it proudly for you all. Enjoy The Masters without fear, people. Maybe carry some hand sanitizer and wash your hands before eating those (I assume) lovely pimento cheese sandwiches. You are all welcome.