McEwan: Gluttonous lunacy is the real price of Masters merch

It’s a little before 8am on Tuesday and a steady flow of patrons is pouring through the entrance gates at Augusta National Golf Club.

There’s a palpable excitement. There always is. This is The Masters, after all, one of the most anticipated events on the sporting calendar.

Suddenly, the crisp morning air is punctuated by a shout.

“Welcome to The Masters,” booms a voice around 50 yards downstream. “Golf course and concessions to the left, shop to the right.”

The human tide splits. The course can wait. Most people, it seems, are here for the souvenirs.

A man stands at the end of the line holding up a sign indicating an 80-minute wait to get into the shop where Masters-branded merchandise in every shape, size, colour, thickness, material and more awaits.

A handful duck out at the prospect of spending an hour-and-a-half standing in line, but the overwhelming majority stay. The front of the queue is at least 400 metres and several hundred people away.

Heading in the opposite direction, battling against the tide, are some of those who have already been in and bought. They’re returning to their cars to dispose of multiple transparent bags, each one stuffed full.

• “I just walked Amen Corner for the first time. It was a dream come true.”

• Jason Day forced into outfit changes after Masters controversy

The rest of the line spies them with a mixture of curiosity and unmistakable envy as nervous anticipation builds.

“I’ve set myself a $500 limit.”

“My mom asked me to get her a sunhat and a jigsaw.”

“Do you think there’ll be any gnomes left?”

Ah, yes. The gnomes.

Introduced in 2016, the humble garden ornament has become – and continues to be – the mother of all Masters ‘must haves’

Standing next to me in the queue are four guys from Texas. Long story short, one of them glanced at the word ‘SEVE’ emblazoned across the bill of my cap and asked me what golf course it was. Resisting the urge to educate him on the greatest European golfer of all time and a two-time winner on this very property, I struck up a conversation instead.

One of them had a particularly pernicious case of gnomeomania.

“I gotta have one,” he tells me.

“Do you have a garden?”

“Nope.”

“But gnomes are for gardens, right?”

“Yeah.”

And therein lies one of the most bewildering curiosities of the Masters. Stick the tournament logo on any item and, quicker than you can holler ‘fore please’, things that nobody needs become stuff that nobody can live without. And so the checkouts whirr and ring all day long. Sunday might be for Drive, Chip & Putt but the rest of the week belongs to chip and pin.

Augusta National won’t disclose how much the shop brings in but most approximations hover on or around a million dollars per hour. And whilst that’s great for the bottom line, it’s legitimate to wonder how much of a problem the retail subculture is becoming.

• The Masters: Round 1 tee times in full

• The Masters: Hole-by-hole guide to Augusta National

Gnomes, for example, have already surfaced on eBay. What you can buy in the shop for $50 – on the condition you get there before 10am on any given day, that is; after that, you’ve got no chance – you’ll struggle to get for less than $450 on the online auction behemoth. Given their no-nonsense position on ticket scalping, it’s reasonable to assume the Green Jackets are less than thrilled about this latest piece of profiteering at their expense. But short of saying no more gnomes, what can they realistically do?

Then there’s the issue of ubiquity. Historically, Masters merchandise has been so in-demand because of its scarcity. Showing up for the May monthly medal wearing with that unmistakable logo embroidered on your polo was golf’s ultimate humble brag. “Yes, I’ve been.”

However, the more widespread the emblem becomes, the more its value is driven down. “Oh, you’ve been, too.”

The Masters shop has taken on an identity all of its own. To what extent Augusta National regards any of this as a problem is unclear but, anecdotally, the queues this year – so far, at least – have been noticeably longer, for longer. And the more people in the shop, the fewer there are on the golf course. Y’know, actually watching golf.

It’s a sign of the times, maybe. As a species, we have become disproportionately affected not just by our own reflection but by how others regard it. We’re status-obsessed and materialistic, divining our worth based on how much we have. Less is more? Pfft! More is more. And we all want it. Gluttonous lunacy abounds and the Masters shop stands ready to indulge it, one Mastercard at a time.

I’m as guilty as anybody. I just bought salt and pepper shakers in the style of – you guessed it – caddie gnomes. Impulse consumed me. Reason took flight. Now, my luggage will be a little heavier on the journey home.

Alas, that, too, is a tradition unlike any other. Ask my wife.

Just don’t tell her how much I spent.

Michael McEwan is bunkered's Head of Content and has been part of the team since 2004. In that time, he has interviewed almost every major figure within the sport, from Jack Nicklaus, to Rory McIlroy, to Donald Trump. The host of the multi award-winning bunkered Podcast and a member of Balfron Golfing Society, Michael is the author of three books and is the 2023 PPA Scotland 'Writer of the Year' and 'Columnist of the Year'. Dislikes white belts, yellow balls and iron headcovers. Likes being drawn out of the media ballot to play Augusta National.

Head of Content