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In the queue at the Masters: $1.50 sandwiches, exclusive merchandise and a lot of garden gnomes

It might break the bank for many to get to Augusta National but once inside the golf club’s famous precincts there’s no rip-off

The giddiness of the eclipse – part of which managed to cast its shadow over Augusta National on Monday, with the floodlights, rather dramatically, turned on so that multimillionaire golfers and a handful of amateurs on the driving range wouldn’t be inconvenienced – had been replaced by a different kind of anticipation for those queuing to get into the merchandise shop.

Actually, to call it a shop would be a breach of the trade description act. Here, it is more akin to an upmarket department store.

Those in the line, starting at the top of the hill close by the short game practice area, know it will be a matter of inch-by-inch, foot-by-foot, shuffling towards the entrance door which in reality is only a tease as the orderly queue then snakes its way upwards and backwards along ornate walled corridors through corralled ropes inside the building before the true entry point to the promised land is reached.

The couple in front have been through the ordeal once already today.

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“We were here at seven o’clock,” says the woman of their first early-morning venture, “got everything shipped . . . now we need to get some more, to take home ourselves.”

Home, it happens, is Missouri and, like many others, they’re beneficiaries of the public lottery for tickets. (Tip to prospective Irish Masters goers: get your name on the lottery. It’s international! And it truly is a lottery).

It’s unlikely they’re alone in that pursuit of shopping to excess with repeat visits on their one day in Augusta National. This is nirvana of a kind for golfing shopaholics and the 30,000 sq ft facility – twice the size of the old merchandise shop – has a vast array of memorabilia, from headwear (hats are the most popular item, one purchased every second with baseball caps from $32) to Peter Millar shirts ($110) to ball markers ($22) to postcards ($12) to umbrellas ($45), luxury Swiss-made watches and commissioned jewellery and bracelets.

Oh, and garden gnomes; which are daily sell-outs since becoming a surprise hit back in 2016 and offered for resale on sites like eBay for inflated prices. (This year’s foot-tall gnome is wearing a Masters bucket hat, blue sweater and plaid trousers, costs $49.95 and there is a limit of one per customer).

On each and every branded piece of merchandise is the tournament’s logo, a yellow emblem of the United States with a red flag positioned in the bottom right where you would find Georgia.

The exclusivity of the Masters merchandise, with no official online sales and only in-person purchases, with buyers filling bags not just for themselves but for friends and families, has also made it the biggest income earner of the week. Even greater than ticket sales or concession (food) outlets, and, yet, the operation – once inside – is smooth and seamless with none of the manic fervour of the old-styled New Year’s Day sales.

It’s cashless, to no surprise, but with 64 points of sales, and those patrons who have heard the traditional greeting of, “Welcome to the Masters” on walking through the entrance gates, have purchasing items at the top of the hit list along with whatever golf they manage to see.

In my own case, the primary acquisition was a Masters branded (everything is branded) Tilley broadbrimmed sun hat (apparently the best you can get, according to my dermatologist) and which were sold out on my visit to the store last year. I didn’t leave it so late this time. Success. For $99, only a tad more than you’d pay for an unbranded one back home.

Eating and drinking, of course, is a necessity and items to be consumed must be purchased in the concession stands located around the course (a new state-of-the art one has materialised in the year since Jon Rahm won a year ago, close by the 18th tee and second green, with an underground service area with lifts for restocking).

You can’t pack your own ham sandwiches and bring your flask of tea here. There is no rip off. The staple diet of food items has changed very little since my first attendance at the Masters back in 1991. Egg salad sandwiches ($1.50, favourite). Pimento Cheese sandwiches ($1.50, not my go-to. Ever!). Pork Bar-B-Que ($3, if needs must). Masters Club ($3, mood dependant). Ham and Cheese on Rye ($3, thumbs up). Classic Chicken ($3, yep!).

Even the price of breakfast items (sold up to 10am) would make a Dublin cafe blush in some shame. Freshly brewed Masters blend coffee retails for $2. A blueberry muffin costs $1.50. A bowl of fresh mixed fruit is $2.

For those who must, the price of a beer – in a plastic container than is itself a keepsake as evidenced by those stacking one into another as the day progresses – is $6 (the unbranded import beer reportedly is Stella, the Crow’s Nest IPA is Blue Moon) and a glass of wine is $6, while bottled water and unbranded soft drinks (surely Coca Cola) cost $2.

It might break the bank for many to get to Augusta National, but – once inside – there is no rip-off. Part of the mystique, if you will.