What it’s like to play at Augusta, Warren Smith’s hole-by-hole diary after shooting 74 at iconic course

Fox League commentator Warren Smith got a priceless invitation to play Augusta National the day after Rory McIlroy the 2025 Masters. A year on, he reflects on the once-in-a-lifetime experience.

What’s the first thing you do when you’re handed an envelope containing an invitation to play Augusta National Golf Club?

Yes, it may be 11.30pm at night back in Sydney, with those nearest to you likely to be sound asleep, but with the excitement rippling through you and a golden ticket in your hand, you pick up the phone and call the most important person in your life – your golf coach.

I’m joking, of course, but it did cross my mind.

I mean, it’s one thing to be invited to play Augusta National, but being well aware that this may be it, the one and only time you get to take a divot from the same turf that has been walked by every great of the game for the last 90 years, you’d like to be able to do the occasion justice and play something resembling half-decent golf.

It’s that thought – ‘am I up to this?’ – that swirls through your mind as your head hits the pillow knowing that when the sun rises, the home of The Masters will be waiting for you to stride to the first tee and unleash whatever you’ve managed to bring to the table on one of the game’s grandest stages.

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It’s Monday, April 14, 2025, and your tee time at Augusta National is 8.45am.

Your arrival time at the main gate on Washington Road, which leads you directly down Magnolia Lane, is 7.45am.

Ideally you’d like more time than one hour between arriving on-site and putting a ball on a peg on the first tee, but there’s no point turning up 15 minutes early because the very friendly guard at the front gate will advise you that as your invitation says 7.45am, that’s when you should return to make the drive down golf’s most famous piece of ashphalt.

It’s a glorious morning – one of those Chamber of Commerce type days when they take all the nice pictures of town halls – and the sun is streaming through the branches of the magnolia’s as you slowly drive towards Founders Circle and the iconic yellow jasmine flowers that make up the map of America in front of the clubhouse.

It’s a ‘pinch me, I’m dreaming moment’, but you’re trying to keep it together so that you don’t arrive at the front door more giddy than Warren Buffett’s stockbroker.

Bags are unloaded and you head upstairs for a Continental Breakfast, knowing full well that while you’d like to just sit and soak in the ambience of what was once the home of the Berckman’s and their Fruitland Nursery, every minute you spend looking at the cabinets of memorabilia is one less minute you’ll have to warm-up at the practice range.

As a collector of old golf clubs and an admirer of the history laid out before you, the battle is real.

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So is the desire to hit golf balls. Now. On the same range used by the stars of the game in the biggest week of their golf calendar.

The range you see on TV, by the way, is accessible to Augusta National’s members on just one day of the year – their single-round club championships.

My caddie’s name is Brian Tam, a highly regarded looper who has worked at the club for more than 20 years and who regularly steers some of the lower profile Masters competitors around the fabled layout each April.

In 2025 he was fresh off the bag of Evan Beck, the 34 year old American having booked his ticket to Augusta by winning the 2024 US Mid-Amateur.

I know I’m not going to hit it like Evan, but it would help my confidence levels if I could just manage to make contact somewhere in the vicinity of the middle of the clubface, a goal that seems to be eluding me as I quickly destroy what was a lovely pyramid of balls with one rushed swing after another.

Whack. Jeez. Rake. Whack. Gawd. Rake. Whack. Hoo Boy. Rake.

There’s nothing like a great warm-up in front of a gaggle of men wearing white overalls and green hats who are sizing you up with every swing, and this is nothing like a great warm-up.

Let’s go have a quick chip and a putt.

The flat stick is probably the best club in my bag, and having walked around the course for the previous seven days eyeing off the wicked slopes and firm, fast surfaces of Augusta National’s greens, I was dying to roll a few before we headed to the tee.

I wouldn’t say it was a mistake to use the practice green beside the main range, but I wasn’t exactly feeling like Jordan Spieth circa-2015 when I kept running the ball by the hole, at speed, on a green that was running at about the same speed on the stimpmeter as varnished marble.

I needed a lot more time there, but time was up. The fastest hour of your life was gone in a blink and you had a pressing engagement with Tea Olive, or as anybody who isn’t Jim Nantz calls it, Hole Number 1.

Now, let’s not kid ourselves here. There’s an average of 60 yards difference between the tees the pro’s play and the tees the members play.

That’s average.

You might get 15 to 20 yards headstart on the Par 3’s, but on some of the Par 4’s – the 11th especially – the member’s tees that we’re playing from are a full 120 yards in front of the Masters tees, which are so far back up the hill they might just be in South Carolina.

My handicap is 3, and while the total yardage we’ll play in this round is similar to my home club of Bonnie Doon in Sydney’s south-east, the intimidation factor along with lightning fast greens and continuous elevation changes will make the National a unique challenge.

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Can I break 80? I’d do handstands if I could, but then again, I’ve always been gymnastically-challenged.

So here we go..

Hole 1, Par 4 – A drive into the left rough and a 7-iron into the heart of the green. You beauty! A birdie putt first up. Which I leave 12 feet short.

If par is your friend in golf, I had no friends at the 1st Hole.

Three putts, and an alarming over-estimation of how quick my first putt was going to be, which should have seemed obvious given that it was uphill to a back pin, but with the drycleaners still working on my underwear after the practice green experience, I was a little worried about knocking that first putt off the green and making a complete goat of myself. Bogey, and 1 over par.

Hole 2, Par 5 – My caddie hands me my driver and says I’ll see you down in the fairway. Brian the Optimist. Or perhaps we should call him Brian the Psychic, because I pipe one over his head and catch the downslope that leads to the green.

Which is terrific, apart from the fact that my second shot is now off a downslope the likes of which I can never remember having before. Anywhere.

A four-iron comes out LOW, finding the left greenside bunker, which quickly removes any vision of making eagle after being well within reach of the green.

Yes, I could have holed the bunker shot, but I could have also been lead singer for Midnight Oil. Peter Garrett’s job, and an eagle at two, were never in danger. Par, 1 over par.

Hole 3, Par 4 – The fun only really begins at Augusta National when you start missing greens in regulation, a box I tick at the third.

My approach has spun off the front of the green to a pin that is famously one of the more diabolical in the final round of the Masters. We’re playing to those same exact pins on Monday morning.

The flag at Number 3 is on a peninsula of green that no modern day golf architect would dare replicate. The green falls off alarmingly in front, beside and behind where the hole is cut, and it’s easy to go over and back several times without ever getting your ball to stop on the green. It’s a feat I almost accomplish. My fifth shot is a 12 foot putt from the front edge of the green and it dives into the cup for a bogey when double or worse looked likely.

Bogey, 2 over par.

Hole 4, Par 3 – Another very difficult pin to access, tucked behind a cavernous bunker. Into a club of breeze it’s a 5-iron for me, finishing pin-high on the left edge of the green. The big-swinging 50 foot putt rolls down to tap-in distance, a huge relief and the first real sign that the brain is falling into sync with the pace of the greens. Par, 2 over par.

Hole 5, Par 4 – After the less than stellar range session I was anticipating a day heavy on scrambling from off the greens to save par, but two solid strikes and I’m on in regulation for the fourth time in five holes. Who’d have thought?

The fifth green is one of those wildly undulating numbers that put the teeth into ANGC – a good first putt from long-ish range settles a foot past the hole, the relief washing over you knowing that you’ve avoided a six or eight footer coming back to avoid bogey. Par, 2 over par.

Hole 6, Par 3 – Did I mention Augusta National has some of the world’s most difficult greens?

Here’s another one. The pin is back right, on a shelf no bigger than a kids blow-up pool. Anything less than a precise iron shot is repelled, and I’m short on precision at the second of the Par 3’s. A chip and two putts totals four, and while the prospect of breaking 80 is alive, every golfer knows that once the Bogey Train begins to roll it can be awfully hard to pull up. Bogey, 3 over par.

Hole 7, Par 4 – Another of the Par 4’s where the members tees are a long way forward, and my best drive of the day leaves only a 40 metre flip to a front-right pin sitting in the middle of a bowl.

Brian the Optimist says hit it five paces left of the flag and the slope will do the rest. And he is CORRECT!!

Two feet for a three, in she rolls, and a sense of relief that, if nothing else, I did manage to make a birdie in little ol’ Augusta, Georgia. Birdie, 2 over par.

Hole 8, Par 5 – It is shocking seeing this hole in the flesh and realising how far uphill it is, the second shot in particular.

There are days when the driver and you are like strangers on passing trains, but thankfully, and surprisingly, today is not that day.

Another one right out of the middle, followed by a hybrid club up the hill to just off the side of the green. A chip to close range and a smooth stroke and bada bing, I’ve made two birdies on the bounce. My playing partners are excited, the caddies are excited, I’m excited!!

There’s not a cloud in the sky, it’s spring time in the south and all is right with the world. Birdie, 1 over par.

Hole 9, Par 4 – In the space of two holes, thoughts of unrealised goals have given way to the idea of, ‘what if?’.

What if you flirted with shooting Even Par? What if you did something extraordinary and broke par? What if you bang another drive over the hill, hit a 9-iron to six feet and can the putt for your third birdie in a row!?!?!

Have I blacked out? Is this really happening?

Now there are high fives, mile-wide grins and a scorecard that says thirty-six shots for the first nine holes. It’s a feeling I won’t easily forget. Birdie, Even par.

Hole 10, Par 4 – I’m confident in saying there is no hole similar to this in the entire world of professional golf. It is so far downhill all you can do is stand on the tee and shake your head. Put some moguls in the middle of the fairway and it’s a slalom run.

Which is fitting, because I’m waaaay over my skis as we wait to hit.

A decent but not spectacular drive finishes on the severe downslope, and now you have to find a stance and a swing that will allow you to get the ball in the air and stop it on a green with a lot of tilt built into it.

The birdie run comes to an end, but two putts from off the left hand side of the green keep me level with the card. Par, Even par.

Hole 11, Par 4 – The drive here is nowhere near as intimidating from the mortals tee markers as it is from up where the world’s best play from, but then, the tee shot at Number 11 is only the entry price for the thrill ride you’re about go on.

Sydney has the Opera House, The Louvre has Mona Lisa, and Augusta National has Amen Corner.

I miss the green to the right, and while there’s lots of putting surface to work with to a back-left pin, the pond that joins Rae’s Creek behind the flag is impossible to ignore.

I’d have loved to have written down a four on the card but it’s a five that goes in the books. You could spend hours hitting chips and pitches from all around this green to hole locations imagined and real. It’s a sublime piece of golf real estate. Just you, some friends and a place in the sun to lose yourself in. Bogey, 1 over par.

Hole 12, Par 3 – If you were told you could play only one hole at Augusta, this would be my choice.

Golden Bell. It’s the Sistine Chapel of golf.

During Masters week, the grandstand and hill behind the 12th tee provide a perfect vantage point to watch the action to the left on the 11th green and the tee shots at Number 12.

But it’s as close as you can get to the famous green which sits out there 150 yards away on the other side of Rae’s Creek.

It’s a truly beautiful scene, but one for looking at look at, not touching. Until today.

There’s a lot to consider. How much wind is there that I can’t feel? What’s my aiming point? What club carries the water but doesn’t reach the bunkers or azaleas at the rear of the green?

You can outthink yourself before you’ve even reached into the bag to grab a weapon.

We settle on a 7-iron, and to be honest, my only thought is hit this hard and don’t stick it in with the turtles in the creek.

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To hit it solid, watch the flight against the backdrop of towering Georgia Pines, and see the ball come down pin-high 20 feet left of the flag is one of the most satisfying feelings I’ve ever had on a golf course.

A birdie to get back to even par? No, but it doesn’t matter. To make the walk down the hill across the pristine turf, to pause for photos on the Hogan Bridge, to see the green from side-on and realise just how incredibly shallow it is, well, it’s more than enough. Par, 1 over par.

Hole 13, Par 5 – The best par five in golf is the 13th at Augusta National. The final leg of Amen Corner, it’s the ultimate risk-reward hole.

My caddie, Brian, thinks driver is too much club from the forward tees and convinces me to take three-wood, which should take the pines out of play on the far side of the fairway.

I’m keen to hit driver and we go back-and-forth on the pros and cons of being that aggressive, but having steered me to this point of the course at one over par, I defer to Brian’s decades of local knowledge and settle on three-wood.

A little draw around the corner would put me easily within range of hitting the green in two, but I push the tee shot slightly and it finishes in the longer cut of grass between the fairway and the trees, and very quickly you realise the chance to make that ‘momentous decision’ and go for the green in two is no longer available.

A lay-up to the right, 60 yard pitch, and two putts adds up to a five, which wasn’t the goal, but hey, you’ve avoided a big number on a hole that can wreck your round, so off we stride beaming about having just played the most famous three-hole stretch in all of golf. Par, 1 over par.

Hole 14, Par 4 – Dogleg to the left, with an off-camber fairway that slopes significantly from left to right. The drive finishes just on the right edge of the fairway, leaving pitching wedge to a wild green with a roller-coaster of a false front.

I’ve seen countless players over the years suffer the fate of watching their ball spin off the front of the green during the tournament, and that mental image is about to be played out in real-life, leaving the craziest putt I’ve ever hit.

I’m just off the front-right corner of the green, the pin is on the shelf back-middle, and now I’m being told to try and hit my putt off the back-left corner of the green, aiming at a tree that is comfortably 25 yards left of the flag.

Wha?!? But?!? Seriously?!?

Yep. And Brian nailed it.

I smash the putt up and over the small mountain range at the front of the green, it speeds on the line towards the tree, before gravity takes over and it starts bending towards the hole.

And keeps going, and going, and eventually stops six feet from the hole.

I never would have aimed anywhere near our initial target line, nor believed the ball would bank like an A380 towards the hole once it began to run out of gas.

Great fun! Unlike the 6-footer for par, which I breathe on and watch it slide past the hole for bogey. What an amazing place. Bogey, 2 over par.

Hole 15, Par 5 – Having driven the ball beyond expectations to this point of the round, my worst of the day comes at No 15.

It’s a hook that settles among the trees down the left side of the fairway, the same trees that Rory McIlroy bent a 7-iron around to get his Masters hopes back on track before ultimately completing the career grand slam.

A punch-out down the hill, a wedge that flies 10 feet too far and finishes off the back of the green, it takes three more shots from there to eventually put a six on the card.

There’s disappointment realising that at both of the remarkable par fives on the second nine, I robbed myself of the chance of taking on the challenge of hitting the greens in two.

The bogey also means I’m back to 3 over par for the round, and it’s unlikely that lightning will strike twice to reel off another hat-trick of birdies on the way up the hill to the clubhouse.

Hole 16, Par 3 – Did somebody say lightning? I believe they did.

We all know the Sunday pin on the left side of the green at Sixteen, with balls funnelling towards the hole to set up very makable birdie putts.

Except this year, the flag is pushed way up on the right hand side of the green on a shelf in the rear corner, commemorating the 50 years since Jack Nicklaus made birdie to the same pin on his way to winning the 1975 Masters.

I don’t know which club Jack hit, but I have another 7-iron, and just like the Twelfth it’s a rifle straight tee-shot, except this time I was actually aiming at the flag.

I’m not sure what I would have done had the ball gone into the hole, but it’s a fair bet that an entire wall of the longe room at home would have been wallpapered with photos of the moment within days of landing.

It’s a relative tap-in from two feet for birdie number four on the day.

Four!

I know, it’s ridiculous, right? Birdie, 2 over par.

Hole 17, Par 4 – I’d love to tell you that I stepped up, ripped a drive, stuck a wedge and made another birdie at the Seventeenth, but the reality is a missed fairway into the right rough, a missed green, and three putts from off the back of a green so nuanced it’s hard to be confident about anything your eyes tell you.

You’d swear your putt will break left to right, but it goes the other way down the hill towards Rae’s Creek. Bogey, 3 over par.

Hole 18, Par 4 – What a day it’s been. From the excitement of arriving at the entry gate, driving down Magnolia Lane, breakfast in the clubhouse, and following in the footsteps of the game’s legends around this stunning layout, our group hasn’t stopped smiling for one minute of it.

It’s a humbling experience, and despite the anxiety-inducing rush of a range session that was low on quality strikes, I’ve played as well, if not better, than I ever could have expected.

The drive at Eighteen from the members tee doesn’t have the same feeling of navigating a chute that you’re familiar with from years of TV coverage, but it would be nice to hit one last good one.

Mission accomplished.

The approach from beside the bunkers on the left side of the fairway flies a little too far and finishes on top of the slope that runs across the middle of the green, and two putts later it’s done.

Par at the last. 75 shots to navigate Augusta National.

Could I do it again? I don’t know, but I’d love to try.

Is there a tee-time available tomorrow?