Westin: Going to "Masters jail"

David Westin is celebrating his 40th consecutive Masters Tournament, and this week is looking back at some of the journalistic traditions involved.

If you ask me which Masters Tournament final round I remember in my time at Augusta National, the answer would surprise you.

It had nothing to do with who won the green jacket – it was something that happened to me.

The year was 2008, when I was thrown into what I call “Masters Jail.”

There really is a “Masters Jail,” though I’m sure Augusta National doesn’t call it that. Technically, it was more of a holding cell.

The experience was so unsettling I only told one person – Augusta Chronicle columnist Scott Michaux – about it and only because he could tell how shook up I was after "going to jail."

What did I do that landed me into a  trailer with patrons who broke some tournament rule (I’m not sure what their offenses were because we were taken individually into a small office inside the trailer to plead our cases).

My offense was that I failed to register my micro-cassette tape recorder when I checked in to receive my credentials at the start of the week. If I had, I would have received a sticker to put on the side of it.

I knew about the new rule, but I decided not to bother with it. That was mistake No. 1.

I’d used the tape recorder all week with no detection by security until I decided to go up to the outdoor green jacket ceremony by the clubhouse and see if winner Trevor Immelman had some interesting comments I could put in my game story before he came down for his media interview. That was mistake No. 2.

As I held my tape recorder up in the air behind a large group of people surrounding the putting green in the dusk, my arm was suddenly pulled down by a security guard. She wanted to see if I had the sticker showing I had registered my recorder.

When she saw I didn’t, she grabbed my other arm and started marching me away, to where I didn’t know.

I protested and told her she could have my recorder – I had a story to finish writing for the next day’s Chronicle and my deadline was growing near.

She wasn’t having any of it. When I got to the jail, I waited for “my case” to be called. As I sat there for about 45 minutes, I was certain I was going to have my press credential pulled and never be allowed to set foot in the media center again. All because of a little sticker.

Before I was released with a warning I was told to get a sticker for the recorder (even though the tournament was over). When I returned to the media center, you better believe I did just that.

I told media committee member Martha Wallace, who was working the desk, what had happened and begged her not to put it “on my record." if there is such a thing. It was never reported to the higher-ups, as far as I know. My editors didn’t know about it and I sure wasn't going to tell them. I still haven’t.

The next year I got a 2009 sticker and put it on my tape recorder when I checked into the media center. Rules are rules.

A few years later, the sticker requirement was dropped.

No matter, I kept the previous year’s sticker on my recorder just in case. There was not going to be a mistake No. 3.