Burk barely noticed at tournament

Masters Week didn't turn into the Martha Burk show, but I do think this year's tournament was a setback for women.

Well, maybe one woman. My wife has been quite busy with the laundry.

She's not alone.

The Augusta National Golf Club was transformed into a muddy mess last week when heavy rains hit the area. Spectators slogged through the slop for a few days, and no one escaped unscathed.

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Even those who managed to stay upright left the grounds covered in grime, and then there were the unfortunate few who took a tumble on the treacherous hills of Augusta National.

The sun made its appearance Saturday, just in time for Burk's protest on the Augusta National's all-male membership. The gorgeous weather didn't keep the National Organization of Women's president from falling flat on her face.

I didn't make it to the protest, but from most accounts, the entire affair turned into a circus, complete with a puppet show and an Elvis impersonator.

There was one priceless image of a man wearing a sign that read, "I'll kiss Martha Burk for a Masters ticket."

That's a brave soul.

Inside the National's gates, Burk was barely a blip on the radar screen, except during a pretournament news conference, when club chairman Hootie Johnson basically told Burk to kiss off.

Johnson said if he dropped dead "right this second," the Augusta National's position would not change. Private clubs have the right to determine their own membership policies.

Thankfully, I was safe inside the Augusta National last week, covering the golf tournament and insulated from the Burk shenanigans, if not the weather.

Granted, there were some Burk backers hanging around the Masters media center, most notably USA Today columnist Christine Brennan.

If Brennan hates Augusta National so much, maybe she should stay home next year.

The same goes for Martha and her minions.

The Masters is the best-run golf tournament in the world. The power-brokers at Augusta National know what they're doing, and they might even ask a women to join their club in the near future.

The men in green jackets are not averse to change, and they can respond to challenges in the blink or an eye.

Last Saturday night, after a long day at the tournament, I stepped into the Augusta National grill room.

I was just looking for some relief, but was stopped in my tracks.

There on the door was the word "Ladies." Shock waves hit me when I thought about my earlier visit into that very spot.

Had I accidentally used the ladies restroom?

Then an attendant calmed my fears.

"You're not losing your mind," she said. "We're having a get-together, and we made that the ladies room just for tonight."

So, there you have it. Augusta National is ready for you Martha Burk.

And if you manage to hammer down the doors of oppression at Augusta, here's a final piece of dirty laundry just for you - Good luck with the urinals.