“Can you get me a gnome, daddy?” Seven deadly words every parent attending the Masters surely comes to dread.
Couldn’t you ask for something a little easier? Turning back the tides, perhaps? Cutting down a tree with a dead fish?
The things we do for our children.
What’s the beef, you ask? Ah, the Masters gnome. A foot-high figurine that resembles a golfing Santa Claus. It might not look much to some of you but it’s become the must-have Augusta National souvenir.
And I mean ‘must-have’. The queues to grab one of these bearded beauties from the Golf Shop has been as long as two hours. This year’s model is already shifting on eBay for obscene prices – north of $450 for a $49.50 garden sprite.
Get in line. You snooze, you lose. And am I going to be the one to let a daughter down?
“If you’re in the queue at 8am, I guarantee you’ll get a gnome,” the pink-shirted tournament line-juggler tells me as I weigh up the chances.
Calculation is part of the difficulty. The Masters gnome is limited in numbers – there are rumoured to be only 1,000 per day – and you’ve got to work out how many people are in front.
I’m in the line at 8.09am. It’s stretching back towards all the way past the practice ground and I can no longer catch the eye of the employee who was once so confident. I’m feeling a little deflated.
This isn’t helped by watching the stream of lucky patrons who have already been inside the massive merchandise store. They seem like they’re all carrying gnomes!
“If we’re still here past 9am, they’ll all be gone,” says a glum-faced man, clearly with the benefit of experience, waiting behind me.
Advertisement
Masters gnome: ‘Am I a doting parent or the victim of hype?’
I check the watch. It’s 8.32am and I’m yet to reach the corner of the labyrinth line that’s snaking round towards the entrance. There is another maze to negotiate once you step through the big double doors.
At this stage, I no longer know if I’m a doting parent or have succumbed as a victim of hype. It’s not just me, either, to get in on the craze. Frankie Dettori and Niall Horan are among the celebs rumoured to have patiently waited to get their hands on one.
These gnomes are everywhere.
As more and more shoppers wield what’s now become a very familiar looking oblong box, I can feel a panic rising. Forty minutes in and I’m finally at the gates to the shop.
There is strictly no running at Augusta National but the head of the line feels like the pause before the firing of a starting gun. A sea of faces waiting on the B of the bang.
8.53am and we’re off. The smaller gnomes – dressed in the familiar Masters caddie boiler-suit and the one that would easily fit in my luggage – are all gone.
The shop attendant sees my face fall. “I’m sorry, sir,” he drawls in sombre tones. I really believe he means it.
But to my right, stacked together in a single neat line, is the precious larger gnome. Before I’ve even weighed up the options – the biggest one being ‘how exactly am I going to get this home?’ – it’s in my hands and I’m on my way to the checkout.
The credit card is out and the receipt is in the wallet. Now reality hits. This is a big box. Attempts to ship it back to the UK elicited one quote of $423 and a discounted rate of $174. I’ll take my chances thanks.
Buyer’s remorse? It disappears on the quick Whatsapp call as I unveil the gnome and my eight-year-old’s face completely lights up.
Was it worth it? That’s not even a question.
Now have your say
Have you ever braved the queues to try and get a Masters gnome? Where does it have pride of place? Let me know by leaving a comment on X.
Advertisement
