A sharp pain in my stomach stopped me at Amen Corner. A pain I am all too familiar with. With every step I tried to take, it shook the rest of my body to the point of immobilizing me. A volunteer at Augusta National noticed my struggle and asked if I was okay. I wasn’t. The kind man, with his warm, southern drawl—whose name I’m sorry I didn’t get—offered to call for help getting me off course.
This was Thursday Masters 2025.
Crohn’s disease, which has been a part of my life for the past 20 years, reared its ugly head in golf’s most beautiful corner. I’ve been punched, pushed, and opened up enough times in my life to understand exactly what was going on last April. Tests in the following weeks confirmed what I already knew: I would have to go under the knife again – and the result of that procedure required another a few months later. Between surgeries, I was on a heavy medication regimen that required 10 to 12 hours of IV treatments a day.
One day, you’re roaming free in Amen Corner, and the next, you feel like you’re under house arrest with an IV pole acting as an ankle monitor. I have been imprisoned in my body for most of the past year.
“Gut It Out” are words I’ve learned to live by. Yes, there is a literal component to it as I have been literally gutted on several occasions. Yes, I have Crohn’s disease, but I refuse to let it have me. Whether I’m feeling good or in the middle of a tantrum, I attack everything with a “deep” mindset. I reject the notion that I won’t be able to overcome any obstacle life throws at me, and last year’s terrifying experience was no different.
THIS YEAR GET IN AUGUST with last year’s experience on my mind. Leading up to the Masters, whenever I saw highlights of Rory McIlroy’s 2025 win, the first thought I had was dark. I went back to that day at Amen Corner, and all the hard days and thoughts that followed.
But in the last two months, I’ve felt more like myself than I have in all of 2025. I was looking forward to a healthy return to Amen Corner. Early Tuesday morning, I did just that. I took a solo walk to the exact spot where things went wrong for me. I stood there for a moment of stoic silence. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or admit importance to anyone but myself. A quiet goal I set for myself was to return to this country in good health. A clear mind replaced those thoughts with dark clouds under the blue sky.
A few days later, the Masters communications team released a video that struck a chord with me. I watched it on repeat and let these words sink in:
“In a world that is louder than ever, there is power in a quiet place.
Beautiful moments that don’t last forever.
We all leave this week feeling different.
Easier. Closer to those we love.
We feel empowered to feel this way for as long as we can.
That’s the power of being present.”
I felt this to the core. The serenity I found in the beauty of Amen Corner this year is something I will never forget. I left the week feeling different. I know how quickly good days can turn to bad, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. I reflected on those I love and how they have supported me. After spending so much time feeling powerless, the morning sun shining through those tall Georgia pines gave my body a boost of solar energy. I was present and kept this current mindset every time I stepped on the course for the rest of the week.
The Masters is known for its rich history of traditions, but you won’t find mine anywhere on their social media. As Tuesday drew to a close, I took a walk with Josh Berhow, GOLF’s managing editor. We’ve taken a “calm before the storm” stroll around Amen Corner with a drink in hand every year we’ve attended the Masters together.
What he doesn’t know is how much that walk took me last year and how much it would mean to do it again this year. But it is these rituals that seem to me like a return to normality.
I knew what Amen Corner meant to me this year, and being present for the rest of the week, I was able to absorb it – better than ever before – and even see how much it meant to those around me. On Wednesday, I spoke with a Chinese couple and their 8-year-old son, who were anxiously waiting to see Haotong Li. They were thrilled to see him in Augusta. I walked the 13th with a pair of lifelong friends from the English countryside who were there to cheer on Justin Rose. And after finishing a Friday morning sweet tea on 11th Street, I offered my empty mug to a woman who added them to her stack, which her nearby nephew was taking to his fraternity house next week. (Grandma gave him an old ham-collar Masters polo from his grandfather to wear, and he happily obliged.)
On Saturday, I spent a few hours with Maureen Farrell, a close friend and GOLF 100 best teachers to watchand her father, Tom. Maureen had surprised her father with tickets on Monday. The tough seats in the stands behind the 12th team as the final groups go through are among the best seats in the house. That’s what we did, and that’s where the reflection started to sink in again.
Amen Corner brought these people together. In theory, you can turn off your phone anywhere to spend quality time with loved ones. And in theory, that sounds simple enough. But it just can’t match the inexplicable feeling and atmosphere that exists at Amen Corner.
It’s the closest thing to a spiritual environment in golf. I used to scoff at the mention of this. Are we talking about a golf course in the middle of Georgia? But after my moments of reflective solitude, reliving first-time experiences with strangers, and witnessing the fulfillment of a father-daughter dream, I finally understood.
Amen Corner is a special place and ironically it was the setting I needed for my closure. But it doesn’t have to be yours. Whatever you are going through, get it out and find your inner peace.
It is the ups and downs in life that help shape the people we become. For me, I’ve always learned more on the way down this roller coaster ride. But last week was a reminder that I am coming back. I like this look better.
The author can be contacted at Tim.Reilly@golf.com
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