Tag: golf

With the wait list closed years ago, organizers have made available a select number of tickets via online lottery.

During Masters week, you can pay tribute to the King at Champions Retreat, a unique 27-hole course with nines designed by Palmer, Gary Player, and Jack Nicklaus. The 11-year-old club is located 15 miles from Augusta National Golf Club in Evans.

Golfer Davis Love, III, is selling his five-acre estate and horse barn on St. Simons Island.

A few minutes into The Founders, Marlene Bauer-Hagge, one of the original 13 female golfers who banded together to create the Ladies Professional Golf Association in 1950, issues a warning and a challenge to the filmmakers: “You better get busy. There’s only four of us left!” The documentary’s Atlanta directors Charlene Fisk and Carrie Schrader took Bauer-Hagge at her word and fast-tracked this fascinating, educational, and emotional new documentary.

Don’t be put off by the name. The new intown outpost of this behemoth indoor fairway is less country club and more upscale sports bar/party space.

Currahee Club is best known for its Jim Fazio–designed golf course, which was recently chosen as the Georgia Golf Course Owners Association’s 2014 Club of the Year and ranked 40th on the 100 Best Residential Golf Courses in America list by Golfweek magazine.

In the 1996 sports rom-com "Tin Cup," driving range pro Roy McAvoy (played by Kevin Costner) celebrates an unlikely successful third round of the U.S. Open at a Waffle House. “I’m a Waffle House guy,” McAvoy says. “Gotta stay in touch with that.”

Venture beyond the fairways, and you’ll discover a lively riverwalk, terrific dining, and a charming Broad Street that lives up to its name (it’s the second-widest such street in America).

Alabama didn’t end up with much oceanfront, but the towns tucked along Mobile Bay provide enough culture, architecture, and good food that visitors don’t miss the white sand. Fairhope, on the eastern side of the inlet, is just five hours or so from Atlanta and in some ways has more in common with Highlands, North Carolina, than sand-and-surf destinations like Panama City Beach.

You know those “moments” that the travel industry promises if you just hop on a plane and get to an exotic beach? Those moments of existential bliss, of zen-like relaxation, possible (we’re told) only by traveling great distances and coughing up great gouts of cash? I don’t have those moments. At least I didn’t until one rainy afternoon on the west coast of Costa Rica.