Even though Ben Crenshaw uses Carl Jackson as his caddie at the Masters, I still went to Augusta just to sample the town's earthly delights. There are groves of two-legged Georgia peaches in their sundresses, meandering the tournament grounds, and this year I got a deal on tournament badges after ticket brokers saw their prices plummet like Cisco stock. I got a kick out of walking the course and listening to all the misinformation—"Look, son, there's Hallelujah Corner." But the most fun I had was at one of the annual Calcuttas that take place in Augusta. The one I went to is held at a different secret location every year to stay one step ahead of the constables. Players are sold to the highest bidder, and when the auctioneer gets rolling, money is thrown around as it would be at a drunken Monopoly game. I bought Angel Cabrera and Kirk Triplett, both of whom kept me an interested spectator over the weekend. Meanwhile, the Striped One was in such demand that they had to cut him in half. One good ol' boy paid $3,000 for the head and $3,000 more for the tail, and the guy didn't even get charged for poaching.