Today is what is traditionally known as “moving day” at the Masters, meaning, assuming you got through Thursday and Friday to make it into the weekend, Saturday is the day that if you’re, say, 7-10 strokes behiond the leaders you go all out to put up a low number. If you’re closer than that, say, within 4-6 shots of the leaders, you play smart and look for opportunities to make birdies and hopefully put up a 66 or 67 to put yourself into contention on Sunday.

I still like my Tiger pick – he shot the ball well today – but Rory Sabbatini, alas, didn’t make the cut.

I’m a big fan of up-and-comer and Transitions Championship winner Gary Woodland; he has a very athletic swing and has ice water in his veins. It won’t be this year (although at -2 he could still make some noise), but mark my words, he has as good a chance at a Masters green jacket in the future as any of the young guns out on tour.

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Anecdote for a golf weekend: there I am earlier today out at Superstition Springs to hit half a small bucket at their range. I’m walking out to my favorite stall at the far left-hand side, and I’m passing two young guys who just happen to be lefties like me, they’re both scuffling the ball around a bit. It’s kind of quiet out there, there’s a lovely, fragrant breeze working from left to right, and there’s no heat in the air – we’ve got a cold front coming through this weekend – with the sun behind a layer of soft milky clouds. I’m limbering up with my 8-iron and not hitting the ball too bad, and I hear a voice from down the line saying, “look at that guy, he’s a lefty too. Just hit the ball the way he does.”

Let me ask the Goodboys this: how many times have you ever heard something like that said about The Great White Shank’s swing?

I’m not there yet and where I want to be by any means, but I’m on the right track.