About 90 golfers. About 90 caddies. Some rules officials. A couple hundred camera folks and support staff for a pooled television feed that can be beamed around our increasingly quarantined world (and who knows how it’ll be by April).
Even the commentators didn’t need to be on the grounds of Augusta National, they could be tucked away in a sterile studio somewhere.
The Masters 2020 would have truly been a tradition like no other. A vision of normalcy. A glimpse of hope. A moment of distraction.
But even that doesn’t seem possible.