Editor's note: This story was originally published April 3, 2025, on The First Call's Substack platform.
Jim Nantz may be slightly annoyed by this story, although he seems like such a force for good in the world that it is impossible to imagine him being annoyed.
So maybe he’ll just be disappointed by this story. Because it is about him.
Nantz will be working his 40th Masters Tournament next week for CBS Sports. He’s still a couple of Masters behind me but that hardly matters. By joining the 40 Masters Club, Nantz just made that an even bigger honor for those of us already in it.
The Masters is “a tradition unlike any other.” Nantz coined that phrase. Augusta National Golf Club trademarked it. Nantz is also a tradition unlike any other. He is The Voice of Golf for us, just as he was The Voice of NCAA Basketball until last year and just as he is still The Voice of NFL Football.
He is more than that. He is the soundtrack of our lives. Nantz has been omnipresent delivering sports commentary for multiple generations. Time marches on, but we remember the voices that come and go just as we do. Mel Allen. Jack Buck. Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese. Bob Costas. Vin Scully. Bob Uecker. Chris Schenkel and Byron Nelson. Pat Summerall and Ken Venturi. Jim McKay.
When CBS president David Berson kicked off a network media conference call the other day by mentioning Nantz’s 40th Masters, it was a reminder to pinch myself about being lucky enough to live in this era of golf that stretched from Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus to Tiger Woods and beyond. Nantz has been there for all of it, a reassuring voice, measured when needed, bursting with energy when called for. His serene tone is as sympathetic as a psychiatrist and as knowledgeable as a NASA technician.
He is also real. If you think he seems syrupy at times, well, that’s Nantz being Nantz. When he utters his familiar opening line, “Hello, friends,” he actually means it. Jim Nantz is the walking definition of sincerity.
“He lives and breathes the sport,” Berson said. He mentioned that Nantz’s first Masters was the 1986 epic won by Jack Nicklaus. “Some way to start,” Berson added with a chuckle.
A recent report said Nantz plans to retire after the 2036 Masters. Nantz doesn’t want to be the story at any Masters. The tournament is always the story, he insists, but he did want to offer a correction. Someone on the internet took an old comment in which he said he wanted to be at Augusta in 2036 for the 100th Masters. That’s all. The quote was revived and twisted, the usual internet way to draw views.
“I’ve always said it with a wink in my eye and a little whimsy that if all things worked out, I would like to be there in 2036,” Nantz says. “I never wanted any attention on me and my longevity at Augusta. It is an honor beyond words. We’ll see what the good Lord has as far as plans for me.
“Maybe it’s 2036, maybe it’s beyond, maybe it’s earlier than that. I don’t’ know. I’m locked in on one thing — this edition of the Masters. I love being in the moment. It’s the greatest feeling in this business, being there and sharing it with this team and preparing every day for these shows. Every single shot that is on the air is a reflection of guys like (producer) Sellers Shy and (director) Steve Milton. It is the ultimate report card on all of us as professionals, just like every shot you strike as a player at Augusta, you want it to be your best. It’s a part of your record. I love the fact that’s the way we approach this tournament. This is our attempt to be at our very best.”
That kind of earnestness is to be admired. The point about this being Nantz’s 40th Masters is that you should enjoy him while you can. He’ll turn 66 in May. Like Scully and Uecker and the rest, he is a national treasure. Not that he’d ever claim that. After Berson mentioned his 40th, Nantz immediately tried to turn the spotlight elsewhere.
“It’s such an honor to be at that number (40) alongside the great Verne Lundquist, so we’re the first two to ever reach 40, and it’s beyond my wildest dreams in a lot of ways,” Nantz said. “What made me fall in love with the Masters was watching and listening. I was smitten by what I saw and riveted by what I heard. I was completely enraptured and ever since I was 11 years old, I wanted to be one of those voices. Sounds like good copy. It’s true. It’s heartfelt. I call every Masters with an outpouring of gratefulness that I’m able to live a boyhood dream.”
His Masters story began at the 1986 Masters. Nantz was already doing NCAA basketball but, he recalled, “I could not believe I was entrusted to be a part of Frank Chirkinian’s golf team.” Chirkinian was the long-time director who perfected the modern golf telecast and hired the likes of Ben Wright, Gary McCord and Peter Kostis. Nantz arrived in Augusta in early March to film some Masters promotional commercials that would run during the NCAA tournament.
“Frank had this theory that no one knew who I was, which was accurate, and he wanted me facing the camera shooting these promos so when I showed up to this Masters, I wasn’t some stranger,” Nantz says. “We shot the promos, I stood in front of the 16th green for most of them and Frank said, ‘Son, I brought you here to 16 because that’s going to be your hole.’
“I couldn’t believe it. To be there for the 70th hole of the Masters on Sunday, that was a very weighty assignment. I tried to act appreciative but unfazed, that the moment was not too big for me. Inside, I wanted to say, ‘Mr. Chirkinian, I was just in the college dorm not even four years ago. Are you sure?’ I was scared out of my wits.
“When that tournament ended and Jack [Nicklaus] made, of course, a pivotal birdie at 16 on Sunday, I went back to the CBS compound and we were all euphoric. We had just documented arguably the greatest golf tournament of all time, April 13, 1986. I'm 6-feet-3, Frank was probably, 5-5 or 5-6, he gave me hug. I leaned down, and he whispered in my ear, ‘You’ve done well, son. You'll be coming back here for a long time.’
“I was just so grateful that I had not screwed it up, that I was going to get to see it for a second time. So I never lose that thought, that feeling, the gratitude of having another one. That's why we take them one at a time and we put everything we have, everything we're trained to do into one show without looking down the road. This is a gift, after all. It's a gift for all of us.”
Whatever it is about the Masters that makes it different from other tournaments and the other major championships, Nantz is a true believer. He is part of why the Masters does feel different. There are no discussions of FedEx Cup points or exemptions or how much a specific putt at the end might be worth in prize money. That’s just not done in Augusta, not on Nantz’s watch, and that’s just how Tournament Chairman Fred Ridley and the Augusta National members want it. The Masters is all about winning the green jacket.
“When you have the Masters, there’s never a discussion about money, it’s about a jacket. It’s about a coat that you win,” Nantz says. “Tell me something else that compares to that. In a world filled with NIL and guaranteed contracts — playing for a green jacket. Yes, there’s money involved. I couldn’t even tell you what first place pays and I don’t care. Nor do the players. You know what it is? It’s immortality in golf. You achieve it, man, you have found a place in history. It’s permanence. It’s forever.
“It has truly been the greatest joy of my career to have been at Augusta all these years. I can’t wait to share that moment. Just being on this conference call today, I feel like the Masters is actually starting right here, right now. I’m super stoked.”
Nantz is a team player, something that isn’t always common in the cutthroat business of television. He looks out for his broadcast partners, his crew, his network. At the 1996 PGA Championship at Valhalla in Louisville, Kentucky, Kenny Perry lost a playoff to Mark Brooks. Perry finished his round early, then spent the next 30 minutes in the booth with Nantz and Ken Venturi. After Brooks rolled in the tying putt on the final green, Perry left the CBS tower and went right to the playoff without hitting a single warmup shot or practice putt. There was criticism that CBS kept Perry in the booth too long.
After Brooks won the playoff, I hustled to the CBS compound just in time to flag down Nantz and Venturi as they began to pull away in a limo. Informed about the potential controversy regarding CBS’ role, Nantz and Venturi recounted how they repeatedly asked Perry if he wanted to leave to get ready for the playoff. Venturi said he strongly suggested it. But Perry preferred to stay and wanted to see Brooks finish. Perry’s drive on the first playoff hole found the rough, he butchered the hole and lost. Nantz thanked me effusively and enthusiastically for coming to them to get the facts. He was relieved that Venturi, his beloved friend, and CBS would not be unfairly blamed.
Nantz is a believer in friendships, loyalty, traditions. One at Augusta is in saying farewell to past champions who are retiring. This year, it’s 67-year-old Bernhard Langer, a two-time winner. “Bernard’s goodbye is a big one,” says Nantz, who put together a tribute to Langer that will air in the hour preceding CBS’ Sunday coverage.
Arnold Palmer’s farewell Masters was another big one. Nantz felt it was important to do something special as Palmer played the final hole.
“We made the determination that we were going to let people feel like they were walking from Arnie from the time he teed off until the time he putted out,” Nantz says. “There was not one word uttered, not one. I was with Ken Venturi in the tower at 18 and it took a long time because what we didn’t know was that Arnie was going to be shaking hands as he walked up the 18th. He would go over to the ropes where there were friends waiting to greet him. It became just a long celebration.”
Palmer was brought to the Butler Cabin for an interview and Nantz had heard from former President George H. W. Bush, a close friend, that he wanted to wish Palmer good luck. After the interview, Nantz dialed Bush’s number and handed the phone to Palmer. “Arnie played with 10 Presidents in his lifetime, he was tied to all of them, red and blue,” Nantz says. “After he hung up the phone, he couldn’t even get words out. That was the first time I really saw him crack. It was a magical day at Augusta.”
Nantz has seen a lot of magical days during his CBS run. He stood right behind Gene Sarazen as an honorary starter at 97 and watched him hit a nice, but short, drive. Sarazen died less than two months later. Another time, Nantz was meditating early in the week by the 12th green when he saw an older couple walking along the 11th fairway. It was Byron Nelson, using a cane, and his wife, Peggy. Nantz picked them up in his golf cart and gave them a ride to the bridge over Rae’s Creek that is named in Nelson’s honor. With his wife’s help, Nelson reached out to touch the memorial plaque there. Nelson died later that year in 2006. Thanks to Nantz, Byron crossed the Nelson Bridge one last time.
The pervasive reverence that goes with those occasions is what sets the Masters apart. It is why Nantz annually visits Amen Corner sometime Wednesday afternoon while the par-3 contest is in progress. He goes there to say a prayer, give thanks and reflect. He is also usually seen doing something similar Monday morning after the tournament is over.
When Hideki Matsuyama won the Masters, his caddie went out on the 18th green, pulled the flagstick out, removed his cap and carefully, reverentially bowed. That is how Nantz feels about the Masters, that’s how he treats the occasion.
It isn’t about Amen Corner, it’s about simply saying, “Amen.”
