AUGUSTA, Ga. — Is that Dwyane Wade watching his uncle?

Sure is, Brent Holtz told his son, Bryson.  

Should he say something?

Sure should, Brent said. 

Then he did. 

“Yeah, so he went up to Dwyane Wade,” Brent said, “and said, ‘Thank you for coming out to watch my uncle play in the Masters.’”

What a collection of words. What a week. Bryson’s uncle, Brandon Holtz, did play the Masters, shooting an 81 in round one on Thursday and a 78 in round two on Friday. And folks did come out to watch at Augusta National, just as Holtz used to do, as late as just last year, through the badges his dad won 22 years ago. 

But what about Saturday? 

Would the 39-year-old family man and real estate agent, who once played Division I college basketball and mini-tour pro golf before winning last year’s U.S. Mid-Am, still come back after missing the cut? Would he replace golf pants for shorts and walk among the patrons again, albeit as someone who just played what they are going to watch? Would he go back to how he does the Masters, including proudly making closest-to-the-pin bets from just behind the green on the par-3 6th, with losers walking over to concessions and springing for beers? Holtz and his wife, Liz, had promised they would. You text. The thought was that if you believed it was rare that a patron got to play the Masters, then returning to be a patron in the same tournament is a unicorn, akin to finding a weed at ANGC. 

The Holtzes text back. 

Sure are.

See you at 6 green at 11.

Bring money.  

“WHO DO YOU GOT?! WHO DO YOU GOT?! SERGIO? MCNEALY? SERGIO? MCNEALY? WHO’S IN?” You find about a dozen members of the Holtz squad at 6. Brandon and Liz. His brother, Brent. Other family members. High school and college friends. Members of his club back in Bloomington, Ill. Others are coming later. All found tickets. All are in on the bet. Sergio Garcia hits first on the 180-yard par-3, then Maverick McNealy. You pick McNealy. Holtz takes Garcia. You lose. Garcia’s closer. The gang heads over for beers, though not before Holtz sees former NBA star Richard Hamilton, goes over to him and thanks him for his alma mater, the University of Connecticut, beating the University of Illinois in the college basketball Final Four, as Illinois is unloved by Holtz’s school, Illinois State University. 

You, of course, didn’t play 6, and Brandon did. How’d that go? Depends on the day. On Thursday and Friday, he made par. He says you can’t go long, and he didn’t. But you shouldn’t shank right, either. During his practice round on Monday, Holtz’s ball darted through the trees and over the water to the left of the adjacent 16 green. Tommy Fleetwood, Holtz’s playing partner, begged him to hit it, but Holtz begged for him to stop. Helluva story. And just name-dropping the fourth-ranked golfer in the world like he’s Tommy from down the street. 

“It’s funny that we sit here and say Tommy, like they’re my best buddies,” Holtz said. “And that’s how I was like, Tommy. I played with Jordan [Spieth]. I’m calling him Tommy. I’m calling him Bubba [Watson]. 

“These guys are the best players in the world and I’m sitting here calling them by their first name.”

What about the ball?

“Oh, hell no,” Holtz said. “I wasn’t going to get that.”

You, the patron, have more patron questions as you drink your Crow’s Nest wheat beer. The biggest surprise? The speed — in the fairways, around the greens, on the greens. And the idea that a 160-yard shot is a 160-yard shot; “if you hit it 161 or 159, you’re in trouble,” Holtz said. No course he’s played, he said, has demanded more. His most intimidating moment? A sequence on the par-4 7th on Thursday. He was short and right after two shots. His third went 50 yards and onto the green, but “I needed to hit it 52.” From there, he had a choice with his ball about 50 feet to the right of the hole. He talked it over with his dad, Jeff, whom he picked as his caddie. “If you look at that green, literally you’re putting up a hill,” Holtz said. “And then after that hill, it is straight down the hill. I said, ‘Dad, I think I’m gonna leave this like 10 feet short because if I try to go after it, it’s an instant 6. So putted up there to 10 feet for my par, and then I missed my 10-footer for bogey. 

“Easy 6, I guess. But if I tried to go after it, it would have been a hard 7, right?”

What he and others can’t forget came on the par-5 15th. 

But who are the others? 

Those were the patrons seated past the green and to the right of it. Holtz was there in 2. He had 35 yards left. He was on an upslope, and the green feeds back down to a pond. Holtz talked with his dad again. 

“These guys were just dying laughing,” Holtz said. 

“Because I’m over there, I’m like, Dad, do I putt it? Do I like hook it? Do I hit an 8-iron? Do I throw it in the air? These guys — and then I asked them, I said, what would you guys do? And they’re just dying laughing. And I’m just like, you know what, at the end of the day, there’s a lot of points in this golf course where you have to just commit and hit the perfect shot.

“I hit the perfect shot.”

Birdie. 

Another group comes to the 6th tee. 

Another bet is placed. 

“BRIDGEMAN OR RAI? I’LL TAKE BRIDGEMAN. YOU LIKE RAI? RAI. CAN’T BEAT A GUY WHO WEARS TWO GLOVES. WAIT, WHO’S UP ON THE TEE? BRIDGEMAN. OK, READY. ” Aaron Rai is closer than Jacob Bridgeman. You win this one. But you buy beers for everyone for their time, though you get the feeling that Holtz wouldn’t have to pay for much on Saturday. 

There are several interactions between patrons and the patron-player-patron again. Near the concession stand, Mason Howell, the U.S. Amateur winner who also played during the first two rounds, stops to talk. Along the rope line to the right of the seventh fairway, a man taps him on the shoulder, says he went to high school with him and says he and his wife have been watching him since last September, when he earned his Masters spot through the Mid-Am win. A volunteer on 7 remembered him from Thursday and Friday, too. “I was his favorite golfer,” Holtz joked. Then another volunteer comes over and says he’s an agent at State Farm, which sponsored Holtz. 

Holtz looks out and sees Adam Scott and Sam Stevens walk past. He’s just a few hours removed from that spot. He’s got another story. Three kids were standing to the right of the tee on 16 on Friday, and they’re hollering at Holtz’s playing partners: Watson, the two-time Masters winner, and Nico Echavarria. They ask for a ball. Holtz said maybe. 

“And that’s when we started chatting, right?” Holtz said. “So we all hit our shots. And kid comes up to me after Bubba hit, comes up to me and says, ‘Play rock, paper, scissors for a ball.’ I say, ‘That’s not good for you, though.’ He says, ‘Why?’ I say, ‘Because I don’t lose rock paper scissors.’ 

“So we all hit our shots, and I’m like, all right, I grab three balls. So I go down there and I’m playing rock, paper, scissors. She throws the paper, I throw the scissors. I say, ‘Boom, I told you I don’t get beat.’ And I’m walking away, and as I’m walking away, I throw the three balls behind me. 

“And the crowd went wild. So, just moments like that, experiences like that, you just remember for the rest of your life. It made those kids’ days. Made my day.”

At this point, you’re standing in line with Liz. She watched him on Thursday and Friday, after watching with him for 10-plus years at the Masters. What was that like? There’s layers to that, she said. She knew the days were coming. She’d helped with arrangements. And there Brandon just was, with her at the Masters, though sometimes hundreds of yards away.   

“I don’t know that I’ve processed that as I’m walking as a patron and I’m instinctively looking like, ‘Oh, where’d B go?’” she said. 

“And I look out in the fairway and I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, he’s out there with Bubba.’”

There’s about a half-cup of beer left. 

TO THE RIGHT OF THE SECOND FAIRWAY, AN AUGUSTA NATIONAL MEMBER’S FAMILY MEETS THE HOLTZES. They’d been following Brandon’s story all week. You don’t hear that he missed the cut; instead, they tell him he ranks as one of their favorite invites. They tell him not to forget to go back to the members’ pro shop, and when Brandon says he has, they tell him to go back again. 

On Friday, everyone went to sleep at 2 a.m., and Brandon and Liz were up around 5. He’s processed some of the rounds, but won’t fully for a while. He’s texted some people back. On Saturday, they drove friends and family to the course, made their way in, then planned to stay the full day. They also dropped off his 6-year-old son, Baker, and his 2-year-old daughter, Millie, at a daycare. Earlier in the week, they were part of the gang during the Par-3 Contest. They’re maybe too young to be awestruck by dad or Dwyane Wade, and you’re curious what they made of the week. 

“Well, Baker put some pressure on me, my son. He’s like, ‘Dad, can we go do that putting thing again?’” Holtz said. “I’m like, ‘Oh, s—, OK.’ So, yeah, they love it. Millie, I mean, she’s 2, she doesn’t really know what’s going on, but she was really loving it, and then we had a little meltdown. Gave her to my aunt and my cousin, so they went and got her a snack, and she was fine with it. She’s a big snack girl. And then we met her again on 9, and I’m just looking at her, and I’m like, ‘Here we are.’’ 

“And I got Jason Day back there, you know, recording it. And I’m like, ‘What the hell? Jason Day recording my wife and my son hit golf balls. Like, who am I? What the hell is this?”

Here, you let Brandon go. He’s revealed enough. He walks away. 

Around his neck is a lanyard that says: “Player.”