AUGUSTA, Ga. » OK, so the ratings were down, the drama was blah and the wrong guy won, but it’s still the Masters.

For the first three days, even the crowds had thinned out like a Dodgers game in the seventh inning, but on Sunday, Amen Corner was filled with souls jostling for position among the pines. Walking down the 13th hole was like getting off a packed 737 and the swell of humanity around the 18th green when Bubba Watson tapped in for green jacket No. 2 was awe inspiring for the fortunate fools who hung around until the very end.

Watson and runners-up Jordan Spieth and Jonas Blixt gave good accounts of themselves on and off the golf course. They were the only three in the running for a green jacket on Sunday and any one of them could have won had they read the right putt, hit the proper approach, or kept their drives out of the trees.

What’s kind of fun if you are lucky enough to have a ticket is to wander through the front nine when all the golf is on the back side of Augusta National. If you’re familiar with the layout, you know No. 16 is right next to No. 6. It’s easy to leave that theater-like setting around the lake that runs the full length of the famed par 3 and work your way backwards along Nos. 5, 4 and 3, then come out the back side for Nos. 8 and 9.

There’s a feeling of tranquility along those holes once all the patrons have exited the scene that gives you a sense of history and place on Bobby Jones’ home course. The roar of the crowds will interrupt now and then, but you can be alone with your thoughts if you want to be, enjoying a kind of emptiness that’s hard to find anywhere else.

Part of you wants to stand out on the fairway, walk along the greens, or pretend to hit a drive from the tee box. And if you wanted to, you could. There’s no one there to keep you outside the ropes or to tell you to move along, there’s nothing to see here.

But, it’s like being in a museum. You keep your sense of place, not jumping on the bed where George Washington slept or touching the canvas of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

For someone from Hawaii, the par-3 fourth has a lone palm tree; the only one of its kind on the course. It sticks out among all those pines, sitting there next to the fourth green. It rarely makes an appearance on TV, although there were some pictures floating around of it covered in snow when the ice storms hit Augusta this past winter. Strange, indeed.

The leaderboards along those holes are no longer manned once the patrons have moved on to other locales. Why would they be? There are no golfers checking out who’s where, no patrons thinking about catching up with their favorite golfer on another part of the course.

If you grew up in the South, you know what the breezes sound like moving through the pines. It’s like no other; as peaceful as the roar of the ocean, as timeless as golf itself. You don’t really want to leave such a setting as the evening shafts of sunlight lay claim to the fairways and greens. You walk along with chicken skin and tears in your eyes, I guess, knowing you can’t stay for eternity.

By the time you come out the other side, you’re reminded there’s a golf tournament going on. Watson and Spieth are parring in, giving the patrons on that side of the course no reason to count on a miracle hook shot, as Bubba had to do before being fitted for his first 44 long green jacket.

You return to the press room, where those who don’t have a midnight deadline as you do are pounding away on their keyboards to let everyone know on the East Coast and beyond that Bubba has won again. You are fortunate, my friend. And you know it. And you can’t wait for the next time they let you back in to experience the Masters firsthand.

Maybe Tiger and Phil will be around in 2015. Maybe not. For the true fan of this place, it doesn’t really matter. Augusta National will still be here. Waiting for you to come home again.

Reach Paul Arnett at parnett@staradvertiser.com or 529-4786.