April 15, 2024
On this momentous Masters Sunday, a new occurrence took place that will forever be etched in golf history—Verne Lundquist had his final round as a broadcaster. Known fondly to some as “Mr. Verne,” Verne Lundquist carries an air of familiarity and relatability that has endeared him to millions of sports enthusiasts across the country.
It is remarkable to consider Verne’s fame. Despite being a regular guy, a true embodiment of normalcy, countless individuals recognize and admire him. A beloved sports broadcaster, Verne has spent four decades providing invaluable commentary at prestigious events like the Masters, captivating a massive audience.
In Verne’s latter years, his narrative has organically evolved through his words. He remains a paragon of humility, devoid of any pretentiousness that often accompanies television personalities. Verne’s legacy boasts an extraordinary career spanning six decades, including college football and basketball games, PGA Tour and LPGA events, and numerous NFL broadcasts. His annual pilgrimage to Augusta National has seen him make 40 appearances. Verne’s body of work lacks a monotonous logbook, as that would not be his style. States like Minnesota, Illinois, Iowa, Texas, and Colorado, which have all been touched by Verne’s presence, echo the sentiment of America’s heartland. Born in 1940, Verne embarked on his journey through grammar school just ten years later, hailing from a middle-class family with his pastor father. Verne symbolizes a bygone era of safety, dependability, and optimism—a timeless representation of the American middle class. He never yearned for branding; he was merely a reflection of ourselves.
For most American golf enthusiasts, the CBS broadcast of the Masters serves as their sole connection to Augusta National. Therefore, for many, the path leading to the iconic 16th hole at Augusta traces back to Verne.
Who can forget Tiger Woods’ triumphant moment on the 16th hole in 2005? The indelible image of his Nike ball unfathomably finding the bottom of the cup for an unlikely birdie 2 remains vividly etched in our memories. The vibrant red of Tiger’s mock turtleneck accentuated the significance of Masters Sunday, while Verne’s unmistakable voice provided the soundtrack to this legendary moment. The Masters on CBS continues to embody a perennial presence in our lives.
This Sunday, an air of anticipation surrounded the tournament grounds as everyone was aware that it marked Verne’s final appearance as a broadcaster. Augusta National may be a haven for immaculate greens and storied traditions, but it serves as a black hole for disseminating information to the outside world. Nevertheless, the security officers stationed on the 16th hole, dressed impeccably in their black and white uniforms, engaged in conversations about the leaderboard, the greens’ speed, and Verne’s farewell.
Sharing the anticipation was Kirk Sampson, an assistant athletic director at Auburn. As we stood side by side, Kirk and I discussed the leaderboard, the condition of the greens, and Verne’s impending departure. Kirk even introduced me to Tracy, Verne’s CBS spotter in the booth near the 16th green. Kirk knew Tracy personally because, on one occasion each year, he became a CBS spotter himself. When the final twosome, consisting of Scottie Scheffler and Collin Morikawa, reached Kirk’s designated hole—the 7th—he made his way down to the 16th.
Scheffler and Morikawa eventually arrived at the 16th hole, marking the pinnacle of Verne Lundquist’s final Masters. Scheffler launched a magnificent tee shot that came to rest approximately 10 feet from the hole, from my vantage point. Being present at the Masters allows for moments of speculation, as we estimated whether either player had found the water hazard on the 13th hole—an assumption later proved woefully incorrect. Both players carded birdies, reinforcing the unpredictable nature of the tournament. The joy of attending the Masters lies in making educated guesses based on the information at hand, realizing that our guesses might not align with those presented on television. Watching in person provides a unique experience that television screens cannot replicate.
Scheffler artfully sunk his putt for a birdie, that elusive 10-footer or thereabouts. Morikawa followed suit with a par. As they teed off on the 17th, spectators near the 16th hole dispersed rapidly. The hillside left vacant within minutes, with only remnants of the event—an accumulation of 100 or 200 plastic cups—serving as reminders of the spectacle.
A small group, positioned as close to Verne’s broadcasting booth as possible, eagerly awaited his presence. Around 30 individuals had congregated in that area, including a builder named Ricky Herring and his architect friend, Rodney Lewis. Their shared sentiment emerged as they spoke about Verne representing a simpler time—an era marked by the heyday of golf. Ricky’s initiation into the sport coincided with Verne Lundquist’s ascendance, providing Ricky with an enthralling journey that spanned from the 16th tee to the bottom of the 16th hole.
After a brief interlude, a zipper slowly emerged, affording passage through a green canvas wall. Within moments, Verne descended a steep staircase—with some assistance—clutching a cane in his hand. His outfit comprised loose khaki pants and a dark blue CBS golf shirt. Adorned with glasses, tufts of white hair, and a glistening bald head, Verne was greeted with applause by the group of admirers, numbering around 30. “Thank you, guys,” he humbly acknowledged, embracing their adoration without any pomp or circumstance. He viewed their applause as sincere admiration. “Thank you so much,” he expressed with heartfelt gratitude.
Awaiting Verne eagerly stood his wife, Nancy. They embraced one another tightly before boarding separate golf carts to embark on their respective journeys.
Meanwhile, nearby, stood Kyshana Otero-Ross, a 16-year-old girl who had just concluded her shift at a concession stand close to the 15th tee. Kyshana, attending her first-ever golf tournament, had the privilege of absorbing the momentous occasion. A student at a local high school in Augusta, Kyshana’s curiosity led her to inquire about the situation unfolding before her eyes. Pointing towards Verne, I proceeded to inform Kyshana about his illustrious history at Augusta National and CBS. Notably, I also drew attention to Nancy’s presence. Interested in Kyshana’s perspective, I asked her to share her impressions of the scene.
“I believe she has supported him throughout his entire career,” Kyshana remarked thoughtfully, observing the couple’s unwavering connection. Witnessing their hand-in-hand interaction, she added, “That’s true love.”
Later, I chanced upon Verne’s commentary as Scheffler approached the 16th tee. With a single-word utterance, Verne eloquently captured the essence of the moment:
“Hello.”
He elongated the word, transforming it into two resounding syllables.
“Hell-low.”
Within that single word, he encapsulated the sheer astonishment and intrigue of the situation.
Please feel free to share your thoughts and comments with Michael Bamberger.
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