How a father-daughter Masters trip revealed golf’s true magic

April 14, 2024

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April 14, 2024

Ellen (left), Pat (center) and Claire Rogers.

The Masters

AUGUSTA, Ga. — “I can’t believe he’s real,” my sister, Ellen, said as Tiger Woods passed us on his walk down the first fairway at Augusta National.

Tiger is a pretty striking figure at any time, but to see him here, on Saturday at the Masters? And to see him now, just a few seconds into the day we’ve all been looking forward to for months?

Ellen grew up as the golf-bored middle child in a golf-crazed family. But now she’s here in Augusta, fresh off a flight from Phoenix, to spend the day with my dad and me at the Masters. And she’s realizing, for the first time, that Tiger Woods really is larger than life.

And that makes me happy.

Every Tuesday in the summer from 2002 to 2008, I made my dad late for work.

I was seven years old when my parents signed me up from the Tuesday morning junior golf program at Wannamoisett — a par-69 course in our hometown of Rumford, R.I. — but I was a little older before I fell for golf.

In those days, golf was a chore. I’d refuse to get out of bed until the last minute, complain to anyone who’d listen, and try to sucker my parents into letting me off on good behavior. My attitude grew so bad that my older brother began riding his bike to the golf course so I wouldn’t make him late. But my dad wasn’t so lucky. He couldn’t start his work day until he got me to the course — and I was relatively determined not to let him bring me. Usually there were tears involved.

By eighth grade, my relationship with golf began to change. Suddenly Tuesday mornings were a social outing. There were 15 or so kids in my age group, and many of them are still my best friends. Golf really helped my confidence in those days, mostly because I found a community in the sport. I could join my friends and match their 73s with 98s. Soon I realized that I liked golf. I liked it so much that I ended up trying out for my (no-cut) high school golf team.

It can be hard for many fathers to connect with their teenage daughters, but I freely admit that I was a particularly difficult adolescent. My parents split during my freshman year of high school, and suddenly I was working through my teenage years while living under a different roof than my dad. I was young and hurt, and the pain made me angry. He was on the receiving end of too much of it.

Fortunately, Dad was (and is) relentless, and golf slowly became our way to connect. After tough school days, we’d grab dinner at the golf course and chat about the day from the fairway. Over afternoon nine-holers and evening putts, our conversations graduated from golf talk to life. On the weekends, we began watching golf together. Soon we rarely went a day without hanging out.

As I’ve grown into my golf media career, my dad has become my biggest fan. He listened closely when I called him last year to tell him that I met Rory McIlroy, and was my first call when I finally gathered up the courage to ask Tiger a question in a press conference. He listens patiently to the frustrations that come with working in golf (or any job). He pays so much attention partly because he loves golf, but mostly because he loves me.

Golf was so often a pain point in the beginning of our relationship, but I realize now that it was on the golf course that my dad became much more than my dad — he became my best friend.

Pat, Claire and Ellen Rogers on the way to the Masters.

Ellen Rogers

To know me is to know my sister.

We were born five years apart but have been attached at the hip for years. I bring her up to anyone who will listen. When she met Bones Mackay at the WM Phoenix Open in February, all he could say was, “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” When we were in grade school, we made our parents purchase bunk beds so the two of us could sleep in the same room. (How many siblings ask to share a bedroom?) I never slept in my own room again.

I joke that Ellen is the “uninterested in golf” member of our golf-loving family, but that’s not totally true. She may not like to play much, but I’ve come to realize that we share some common real estate in the sport. Over the years, golf was her way of growing close with Dad, too.

When she comes back to Rhode Island, she gets up early to walk across the street with my dad and eat breakfast at our home club. She may not know equipment or be particularly interested in Strokes Gained, but she loves being around any environment that includes the sport. So when we all met up to walk around Augusta National today, it felt like a full-circle moment.

Every year, the Masters brings about at least one “father and son” story, but this year, our dad couldn’t pick just one daughter to bring to the Masters with him.

So he brought two.