Where the roars don’t reach: Experiencing the 90th Masters from the inside

By Rodrigo Burgos Avila | Editor in chief

The sun had not fully risen over Augusta National Golf Club, but the storylines of the 90th Masters Tournament were already unfolding, just not where the patrons could see them.

For most of the world, the Masters is defined by what appears on television: The immaculate grass, the perfectly framed shots, the echoing roars through Amen Corner, the familiar voices guiding viewers through golf’s most scared stage such as Jim Nantz, Grant Boone and Shane Bacon. But for those working inside the ropes and behind the scenes, the tournament reveals something deeper. Something quieter. Something far more human.

As a journalist myself, I was stoked to work this edition of the Masters as an intern for CBS Sports. I quickly realized that the most compelling stories were not always the ones being captured by the cameras. They lived within conversations, in traditions, in the rhythm of a place that somehow feels both frozen in time and alive with meaning.

And in many ways, that is exactly what makes the Masters unlike anything else in sports.

The stories you do not see

For journalists covering the tournament, the Masters presents a unique challenge, one that forces them to rethink how stories are told.

“The Masters is the tournament that forces us journalists to think outside the box,” said Gabby Herzig, a golf journalist for The Athletic. “And to really lean on what we see, hear, and feel out there. Without a cellphone on the course and without inside-the-ropes access, it really pushes you to take in everything that you can—including the response from the crowds.”

Unlike most modern sporting events, Augusta National limits technology in a way that feels almost foreign in today’s media landscape. There are no phones on the course. No instant updates. No constant digital noise. What remains is observation—pure and uninterrupted.

“For example, I wrote a Saturday story on Rory McIlroy this year that was entirely influenced by conversations I overheard while viewing the tournament with all the patrons,” Herzig said. “That’s something you’re really not going to get anywhere else. You have to lean super hard into what the viewer at home is missing on TV. You are their eyes and ears.”

That idea—being the eyes and ears—became a defining theme throughout the week. While millions watch from afar, those on the ground are tasked with translating not just what happens, but what it feels like.

And at Augusta, feeling is everything.

A different kind of greatness

This year’s tournament added another chapter to the legend of Rory McIlroy, as he went on to win his second green jacket, becoming the first golfer to win the Masters in back-to-back years since Tiger Woods accomplished it in 2001 and 2002. But as Herzig noted, the story behind his victory may be more complex than the final score suggests.

“I think the most interesting angle of McIlroy’s win may not be totally highlighted because of how momentous it was,” Herzig said. “And that is the fact that he didn’t even play that well. His golf was scrappier than usual.”

In a sport often defined by precision, McIlroy’s performance reflected something different, resilience.

“When I asked him in the press conference, he gave his driving a B- and his irons a B,” Herzig said. “It was McIlroy’s short game that totally saved him this week, and ultimately won him the tournament. He gave his putting and chipping an A+.”

It’s a type of victory that echoes a different era.

“That’s the type of win that we used to see all the time in the Tiger Woods era—a player who could win without his ‘best stuff,’” Herzig said. “Now we’re starting to see it with McIlroy, and that could be very dangerous.”

From the outside, it may have looked like another major championship. From within, it told a deeper story, one of adaptability and evolution.

Tradition that feels like home

While players and storylines change, the heartbeat of the Masters remains constant.

“For me, the feeling is all about the traditions that are here,” said Kelly Thilgman, a veteran golf broadcaster and former Golf Channel anchor. “No matter how much they improve the golf course, improve the buildings, and the facilities around the grounds, the traditions remain the same.”

Those traditions are not just ceremonial, they are foundational.

“The Par-3 Contest, honorary starter ceremony, the Green Jacket ceremony, skipping it across the pond on 16—it’s all so special,” Tilghman said. “And even though the house changes a bit, it still feels like you’re coming home each and every year.”

That sense of familiarity becomes clear the moment you step onto the grounds. The Masters does not simply preserve tradition, it lives in it. Every detail contributes to an atmosphere that feels both exclusive and deeply personal.

For first-timers, it can be overwhelming. For veterans, it is comforting.

For everyone, it is unforgettable.

Learning to listen

For aspiring journalists and broadcasters, the Masters offers lessons that extend far beyond golf.

“I think it’s important that the youngsters of today listen, and not just talk,” Tilghman said. “The truly talented journalists have an ear for what’s going on. They absorb the information, and because they’re listening, it’s taken to heart.”

In an era driven by speed and visibility, that advice carries weight.

“When they return the story back to the public, it’s coming from a place that’s sincere and not manufactured,” Tilghman said. “I think that’s an honest mistake a lot of young journalists make, because they’re trying to make their mark. But the best journalists are the ones that remove themselves from the story.”

It’s a subtle but powerful shift, one that allows the story to take center stage.

At Augusta National, where every detail matters, listening becomes just as important as reporting.

The first look that changes everything

For Iona Stephen, a golf presenter and analyst for CBS Sports and Sky Sports, the magic of the Masters began with a single moment.

“My first Masters was in 2019,” Stephen said. “And the first wild moment I had was actually walking onto the grounds of Augusta National for the first time.”

It is a moment many describe, but few fully capture.

“I remember walking out and just casting my eye across the grounds, and I just could not believe my eyes,” she said. “The scale of it. The size of the holes, the height of the trees, the colors—the way the green popped, the azaleas. I was flabbergasted.”

That year carried even more weight.

“With Tiger’s win, that whole experience was just a big wow moment,” Stephen said. “I was waiting in the grill room where he was coming in for interviews, and I remember practicing my questions a hundred times. But I’ll never forget just stepping foot and seeing the golf course for the first time. I truly just about fainted.”

It is a feeling that does not fade, it evolves.

No matter how many times you return, Augusta National has a way of reminding you why it matters.

The people behind the place

While the course may be iconic, the true magic of the Masters lies in something less visible.

“What surprised me a little bit was just the care and the kindness that you get at Augusta National,” Stephen said. “Everybody here has a role to play, and it all comes together to create something magical.”

That sense of connection extends far beyond the competition.

“The friendships, the people, are really what make this place so special,” she said. “You come back year on year; you see the same faces. It feels like a real moment in time in your calendar.”

Sometimes, those connections happen unexpectedly.

“You can sit at Amen Corner and start talking to someone whose family has been coming for generations,” Stephen said. “Or someone who’s there for the first time. You can talk to total strangers, and they end up becoming your friends.”

It is a reminder that while the Masters is built on history, people sustain it.

A place where everyone matters

For all the history, tradition and excellence that define the Masters, some of its most meaningful moments happen far from the spotlight.

Working the tournament as a CBS Sports intern, one thing became clear almost immediately: everyone on site matters.

At an event of this scale, the largest I have ever worked, there is an understanding that the final product does not come together without every single person playing a role. From the production trucks to the course, from early mornings to late evenings, the operation is constant, detailed and demanding.

And yet, it never feels impersonal.

Whether it is the cameramen capturing every shot, the production managers coordinating behind the scenes, or the staff preparing food for hundreds of workers, there is a shared sense of purpose that connects everyone involved. Even the smallest roles carry weight. Even the quietest contributions are felt.

It is something you notice not just during the broadcast, but after it.

When coverage wrapped, there were no rushed exits or quiet departures. Instead, there were hugs. Conversations. Celebrations. A sense of collective accomplishment that felt less like coworkers finishing a job and more like a family sharing a moment.

That feeling extends beyond CBS.

Having worked smaller-scale events before, I had seen the level of preparation and coordination required to pull off a broadcast. But the Masters operates on an entirely different level. The work begins long before the first tee shot and continues well after the final putt drops. Every detail, seen and unseen, is carefully executed.

And somehow, within all of that structure, there is still something intangible.

There is a magic to the Masters that is difficult to explain but impossible to ignore. It is present in the way people treat each other, in the pride they take in their work, and in the understanding that they are part of something bigger than themselves.

From the interns to the executives, from those behind the cameras to those preparing the food—including the iconic pimento cheese and egg salad sandwiches—everyone contributes to an experience that feels uniquely special.

It is a reminder that while the Masters may be defined by its champions, it is sustained by its people.

More than a tournament

By the end of the week, it became clear the Masters is more than a golf tournament. It is a collection of moments, some loud, some quiet, yet all meaningful.

It is found in the stories journalists piece together without the help of technology or artificial intelligence. In the traditions that endure, even as the world changes. In the first glimpse of a course that feels almost unreal. And in the people, those who return year after year, and those experiencing it for the first time.

From the outside, the Masters is about excellence. About winning. About making history.

From the inside, it tells a different story, one about perspective and presence.

And above all, it is about understanding that the most important parts of the story are not always the ones seen on television.

Sometimes, they are the ones you must be there to feel.

Contact Rodrigo Burgos Avila at rburgosavila@augusta.edu.

Note: At the top of the page, interns receive a lanyard for their credentials and are allowed to shop at the tournament. Rodrigo Burgos Avila acquired the hat shown in the picture during his time at the store. (photo by Rodrigo Burgos Avila/the Bell Ringer)