AUGUSTA, Ga. — Rip Hamilton and Ryan Fitzpatrick are headed into the most prestigious golf tournament in the world. One is a three-time NBA All-Star and world champion, the other a 17-year NFL veteran. No badge will get them where they want to go.
It’s an unlikely duo, but before the two famous athletes can complete their mission, they must begin at dawn at Augusta National Golf Club. They desire to be the first car in the lot, in hopes of being the first patrons to place their Masters folding chairs on the course. They trek from one hole to the next, plopping down seats, buying more, and doing it all over again. Championship rings do not earn them those coveted on-course vantage points. A 3:30 a.m. morning alarm did.
“It’s survival of the fittest,” Hamilton says. “It feels like you’re becoming a Marine.”
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At Augusta National, there are no VIP suites along the fairways. No private entrances. No phones are allowed on the property. It’s the last large-scale event in America where pro athletes, singers, influencers, actors and everyone else can just be — a viewing experience that is firmly embedded in living in the moment.
“The Masters took me back to my childhood,” Hamilton said. “In that moment, I was just a regular 16-year-old kid from Coatesville, Pennsylvania, trying to figure it out.”
For a club that is associated so deeply with exclusivity and inequality, a universally old-school spectator experience temporarily flattens the caste system. Tiers of hospitality venues exist outside the Augusta National perimeter, but if you want to see golf, there’s one way to do that: Watch it from eye level, with everyone else, completely disconnected from the outside world.
“I hope they never get rid of the no-phone policy,” said Niall Horan, the Irish singer and member of the since-broken-up boy band One Direction. “Obviously, I play a lot of concerts, and over the years, every tour I’ve gone on you see the phones going up and up. It’s just the way the world is, especially in the entertainment industry. It’s nice to see that the one and only place is Augusta, where people can actually have proper human conversations and make memories, instead of making memories by scrolling through them later.”
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Then Horan set off from underneath the oak tree that shades Augusta National’s clubhouse, with plans to follow English golfers Tyrrell Hatton and Justin Rose.
The club does not plan on changing the no-phone rules anytime soon. The claps are louder among phoneless hands. The conversations are livelier. Gazes are locked on the competition. You find yourself making constant eye contact with strangers as you walk through the property, sitting with your thoughts.
The tournament is in stark contrast to another mass gathering happening concurrently across the country. Influencer activations have corrupted the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, a hub for 125,000 daily concert-goers to see their favorite artists in one place. Phones rise into the air, not outstretched hands. At headline sets, there is noticeably less crowd movement as everyone looks for the perfect shot to show they were there.
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Here at Augusta National, the practice days are teetering on that sort of Instagram-takeover — digital and disposable cameras are allowed on Monday-Wednesday. But once the tournament starts, all the lenses disappear. You cannot step foot on Augusta National’s property with a cell phone: Check it at the door for free, or leave it in your car. Courtesy phones are famously available throughout the course if you absolutely must make a call.
NBA legend Dwyane Wade says the opening round of the Masters is his favorite day of the year, and he’s walked the grounds as a patron every spring since 2021, his first Masters post-retirement.
“During the practice rounds, if you’re a known person, it’s a full-time job,” Wade says. “But on Thursday, all people can do is say, ‘Hey Dwyane!’ The Masters became one of the only places throughout the year where I can have human-to-human contact and conversations without needing to have that moment of an ‘ask.’”
Every year, word gets around that a world-famous athlete or Grammy-award-winning artist is roaming the course. Rafael Nadal was spotted shuffling along with the crowds following Rory McIlroy’s group on Thursday. On Friday, Augusta National members Eli and Peyton Manning stood with the Heisman trophy winner and prospective No. 1 NFL draft pick, Fernando Mendoza, by the first tee. Travis Kelce was also photographed near No. 14.
Will Ferrell, Josh Allen, Harry Styles, and so on and so on … they’ve all walked these corridors.
But there’s an unspoken etiquette when a celebrity spotting occurs. It’s a quick introduction, nod, or a shake of the hand. Without the ability to take a photo or FaceTime a friend, the exchanges are instantly more intimate in nature.
“It’s nice to have human conversations with people,” says Horan. “I’ve had people come up this morning and say they like my new song, and just have a normal conversation about anything. It’s so much different than being out in the streets when people have their phones and people can take selfies and things like that, so I enjoy it.”
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For these four days, athletes and celebrities live as part of a collective unit that barely exists anywhere else in the world, comedy shows and no-phones nightclubs being the closest comparisons.
“I tell all my celebrity friends about it,” Hamilton says.
American rapper ScHoolboy Q just wishes he had a few more inches on him, so he could see the action, unobstructed by everyone else: “It’s dope, man. I wish I was taller. I have to stand back, I’m with the kids that are 8 and 9 looking to the sides and s—,” he says.
Sometime early in the day, you’ll catch yourself instinctively patting an empty pocket. You’ll wonder the answer to a Google-able question, or wish you could capture the beauty in front of you. You become more aware than ever of your technology addiction.
But all of those temptations and learned habits very quickly dissipate. A roar from a faraway corner of the course prompts instant intrigue in the unknown. Murmurs ripple through the property. Crowds build to 10 bodies deep, where temporary friends are made.
Augusta National’s rolling hills and analog leaderboards don’t care what album you produced or how many championships you won. Because at the Masters, the crowd operates as one. And that’s something that everyone can appreciate.