First of all, it's only a golf tournament. Oh, the pooh-bahs at the CBS television network would have us believe, to be sure, that the annual Masters tournament in Augusta, Ga., is a yearly moon landing, an inauguration, an event of such monumental importance that candles should be lit and the television viewed as an altar. The presentation of the fabled "green jacket" is afforded a teary ceremony akin to a coronation.

The pre-tournament weeks are filled with commercials with mellifluous announcers speaking over reverential music of "an event like no other" and various intimations about the profound nature of that to which viewers will be treated. Such gravity is attached to the event that one would think Congress must naturally adjourn, and that victory is surely attached to divine providence -- with musical accompaniment, of course.

And CBS...good grief. One hopes the announcers' clothes are gratis, for they surely are of no use after all that belly-crawling and groveling. So delicate are the hides of Augusta's members, apparently, that one announcer, Gary McCord, who brings a delightful wit to his broadcasts, was banned. He'd once characterized the Augusta greens as being like "bikini wax."

The network broadcasts the tournament with much-ballyhooed "limited commercial interruption" as if it were a papal visit. It's so far over the top that you'd need a space shuttle to transport you back to the top.

But 'twill be interesting to see what sort of reaction there is to the angry response of Augusta's chairman to the head of the National Council of Women's Organizations, who suggested that perhaps the 70-year-old club -- which did not have a black member until 1990 and has no female members -- might finally want to consider including women in its membership.

Oh, mercy. The august chairman reckoned that was "offensive and coercive" and said, "There may well come a day when women will be invited to join...but that timetable will be ours, and not at the point of a bayonet."

Easy there, fella. Sherman ain't headed over from Atlanta. It's only a golf tournament.

The chairman's name is Hootie Johnson. His members believe themselves to be joined to the most exclusive club on Earth, outside of the Royal Family, and many's the millionaire who probably pants for admission like a freshman who'll not be able to show his face back home if he doesn't pledge Kappa Alpha.

According to news reports, an Augusta member named Lloyd Ward had said during the last Masters tournament that he intended to urge his fellow members to include women. Ward was the first black chief executive officer of the U.S. Olympic Committee. He and his chairman are apparently not on the same page. Or in the same century.

Augusta National, despite all the worship and deference offered it by the CBS network, has been criticized before because of all the years when no black professionals played in the tournament that it sponsors and has hosted since 1934. There were various reasons given for that, none of which ever sounded quite adequate. (The first black professional participated in 1975.)

Your correspondent is a commoner, to be sure, but I should note that I've been to the Masters -- once. I followed Arnold Palmer for one round and he shot 80. It was fabulous, and I loved it.

But it's a golf tournament.

And ordinarily, the membership policies of private clubs, however silly, might seem fairly insignificant. In this case, however, Hootie and the Big Fish seem to want to enjoy annual proclamation as a national shrine while maintaining the secret handshake, the paddles, the rivalry with Sigma Chi or whatever other fine old traditions they revere. (You don't reckon they "roll" one another's houses, do you?)

Well, in this case, what with the annual televised worship service at the Church of Augusta National, it does sort of matter that women are outside the ropes of membership. The tournament has a national forum on the public airwaves, supported by sponsors that presumably aren't exclusive in their recruiting of customers.

So it's curious why Johnson would react with fightin' words to the notion of female members, saying club members "will not be bullied, threatened or intimidated." Yo, Mr. Chairman: Really, let me say it again. Sherman's not coming. Honest. That was all settled some time back.

What? No, we're not still holding Richmond.

The truth of the matter is that there's not much mystery left in the Masters anyway. They play in April. The incomparable Tiger Woods is going to win the next 20. And Arnold Palmer's not playing again.

So get over it, fellas. You don't look good. Your sponsors aren't going to like it. There are 300 of you, and you're fixing to pick a fight here with half of humanity. Does the word "Gettysburg" ring a bell?