Worst… Masters…. Ever!

Okay. Maybe not as bad as when Mike Weir beat Len Mattiace in a playoff.

But this was bad. Real bad. Painfully, eye glazingly, why-am-I-even-watching-this dull.

I only wish Simon Cowell could have sat on a stage at the green jacket ceremony and lectured the Lords of Augusta on their performance.

“You know, Billy. I just didn’t get this whole final round thing today. It had no spark. It had no real defining moment. It was just dreadful. Ab-so-lutely dreadful!”

Yeah, Trevor Immelman is one helluva player. An action through the ball that is just flawless. And his story is great, coming back from a thankfully non-cancerous tumor in his stomach just a year ago.

But overall, the sound of everybody’s bread truck backing up to the loading dock on Sunday just plain sucked.

I was praying CBS would cut away to a replay of the NASCAR race on Fox that bumped the last out of Yankees-Red Sox.

How bad are ratings for this one going to be? You'll need eyes as sharp as Paul Casey to see them. Only he could see his ball wobble on the green (picture above) and called a penalty on himself. It was the second such incident this week!

Call me crazy, but when balls are slipping off their mark on the greens easier than Paris Hilton slips off her bra, then "Augusta, we have a problem!"

“But Czabe, it was blowing 35 MPH at times! What did you expect? Even Billy Payne can’t tell God to ‘keep it down’ for a few hours!”

Well, for one. I’m still agnostic about whether the Augusta green jacket brigade can or can not control the weather. I’m betting the boys have developed a secret weather blimp, and it’s just sitting in a big mower warehouse on the property waiting for the right time to deploy it secretly at night.

But even so, you sure as hell can throw a ton of water on the greens to make them hold better. You can sure as hell not cut them to stimp at a ridiculous 13, I bet 11.5 would do the trick. And you can peel back some of the asinine length that has pushed this beast to 7,400 yards plus.

Augusta on Sunday was meant to roar, to rollick, and to feature potential two shot swings on every hole coming home.

Now, it’s the US Open with prettier bushes.

Which brings us to Eldrick. Better luck next year, stud. I applaud your bold move to say that a Grand Slam year is certainly “attainable.” I like the fact you brought along a 10-gallon drum of tartar sauce just in case you landed golf’s Moby Dick.

But please don’t act all ‘poor me’ about this. I know it was frustrating, and that you had soooooo many birdie putts just miss the cup. Not to be rude, but at my club we just call thoses “misses.”

You also missed plenty of 5-10 footers by a mile, and gakked some short ones.

Remember how great it was to see Jack Nicklaus win in 1986? He shot 65 on Sunday that year.

This year, there was all of ONE score of 67 or better.

ALL WEEK!

Call Rees Jones. Does he shrink courses too?

>>>>>>>>>>>