After watching Bubba Watson walk Louis Oosthuizen down at Augusta National, shot by shot, hole by hole, hitting mind-freak shots off pine needles and bombing drives with his neon pink stick, all anyone in the golf world can talk about iswhat this all means.

Pull it together people!

Why the need for over analysis?

It means that he’s one bad ass Golf Boy. It means that there isn’t one archetype way to win. It means that Bubba reminds us of the American Dream…a “can do” mentality and a will to get the job done. And like Chi Chi Rodriguez, Lee Trevino and the late Seve Ballesteros, Bubba is imaginative, charismatic and charming. In turn, he makes the game more fun to watch.

There’s no need to hoist the entire future of golf on his shoulders before he can relish in his win. If it’s not Bubba this week, it’s Rory next week…everyone’s itching to claim who will be the future of golf. But the fact of the matter is…there is room at the top.

Does the Big Three ring a bell?

Sports thrive off the art of the rivalry.

So, congratulations Bubba. Let’s not cloud his win and put added pressure on what this all means. After all the answer is quite simple—Bubba Watson is the 2012 Masters Champion.

1. There would be no Masters Champions if it weren’t for the women who bore them.

2. It’s 2012, not 1920.

3. Women look better in green.

4. Should we not be just as disappointed in Billy Payne’s hesitancy to grant women membership as he was in Tiger Woods’ “egregious” off-course behavior? 

5. Tradition isn’t a good enough defense.

6. The “women’s issue” will not go away.

7. Sexism is not cool.

8. Money doesn’t have a sex.

9. Because I dream of playing there.

10. In the words of James Brown, “This is a man’s world, but it would be nothing, NOTHING without a woman or a girl.”

Sitting in my room listening to rain drops jump off the air conditioner outside my window, I’m reminded that April has finally arrived. And in the golf world that can only mean one thing—The Masters.

Next Sunday, rain or shine, I’ll be sitting in front of the TV like so many other Americans waiting to see what magic will unfold this year. I can already here the Masters theme song playing as Jim Nantz whispers catchy one-liners that lay the soundtrack to the visual masterpiece that is Augusta National.

But with all its beauty my love affair with Augusta is one-sided. It’s like loving a man who doesn’t even know you exist. An unhappy ending for a hopeless romantic like myself, and no amount of azaleas can ease my pain. For it’s the one place where my womanly ways could never sway an institution that for more than half a century has been, and perhaps always will be, a place for the boys.

The buzz this week going into the tournament is not only around usual suspects: Tiger, Rory, and Phil, but murmurs of whether IBM CEO, Virginia “Ginni” Rometty, will or will not be the club’s first female member since it opened in 1933 have now taken center stage. Let’s face it—The Masters is and always will be, “a tradition like any other.” The Crow’s Nest, the Green Jacket, the Par-3 Contest, and The Champions Dinner are all part of the tournament’s rich history. But is tradition Augusta National’s gift and curse?

It wasn’t until 1975 that Lee Elder was the first African American invited to play in the prestigious tournament. And it would take another 15 years before the club admitted its first African American member, Ron Townsend.

Women are still not permitted to be members.

The Masters has always been one of my favorite majors of the year (coming in second to The Open).  It’s hard for me to separate The Masters from Augusta National when they are so inextricably linked (the former public, and the latter private). At times I wrestle with the thought of what past champions tell their own daughters who love the game as I do.

Sure sweetie, you can run for President of the United States, but being a member at Augusta National? Get real!

If the only thing that’s constant is change, when will it fully happen for Augusta? 

                                                                                      (Photo Credit: AP)

After this weekend’s Sudden Death playoff between Phil Mickelson, Keegan Bradley and eventual champion, Bill Haas, all anyone can talk about is spit, saliva and loogies.

Forget the fact that Haas’ stunning play led to his fourth PGA Tour victory. The morning headline on Monday was all about Bradley’s salivary glands and his spit-shot routine.

Bradley’s salivary glands got so much attention he even took to Twitter to apologize!

“Id like to apologize for my spitting,” Bradley tweeted. “It’s like a reflex, I don’t even know I’m doing it, but it’s a longtime habit I’ve got to try to conquer.”

Conquer? Really?

So cameras won’t cut to him before he hits a shot because it’s disturbing? Please…at least it’s not as disturbing as watching Sergio regrip his club 16 times!