This article originally appeared on Business Insider.
When the Masters golf tournament began this Thursday, those watching on TV were treated to the usual assortment of images: lush green grass, immaculate flowerbeds and the world’s greatest players putting on a show.
But behind the scenes, an even fiercer competition will rage: the battle for authentic Masters merchandise.
Sure, seeing superstars like Tiger Woods and Scottie Scheffler in person is cool. But so is gear emblazoned with the famous yellow Masters logo, which has become a beacon of cult-like status.
I was lucky enough to attend a Monday practice session for the Masters and was able to see the merchandising fervor up close and personal.
When I showed up at Augusta National Golf Club with my family (shout out to my dad, who secured tickets after more than a decade of lottery attempts), I immediately noticed the number of people already making their way to the exit. They each had six to eight bags filled with shirts, hats and towels, and many had the most sought-after item of all: the Masters garden gnome.
A close-up of the much sought after garden gnome. Christian Petersen via BI
The tournament allows one drop-off per day, so it’s possible those people leave the goods in their car. But it’s not lost on me that they may be part of a legion of resellers who make thousands by marking up and flipping authentic items. To get an idea of how profitable it could be, check out this 2023 Masters gnome listed for $1,200 on eBay. (Original price: $50.)
Once we continued along the entrance trail, we saw the start of the line. It extended 50 feet from the entrance proper, followed by a series of twisting metal gates reminiscent of a TSA checkpoint. Directly in front of the entrance there was a sea of people walking side by side, trudging, trying to reach the actual path. It reminded me of going to the stages of a music festival. I would have taken a photo of the commotion, but the Masters’ no-phone rule made it difficult to document the trip.
Being in the main line is a bit like waiting for a ride at Disney. Once you enter the building, there is a huge room and a corridor with winding gates. The line seems to extend at every bend. What’s another 20 minutes of that sweet commodity being at your fingertips?
After about 45 minutes we arrived at the actual shop. The final step is to wait about five minutes in an entrance before they let in a new wave of shoppers.
Once inside, the craze is overwhelming. There are separate alcove sections for men, women and children. In the center of the store is a giant display of household items. Countless shirts and hats are displayed on the wall, and busy workers rush to grab items from stacked containers of various sizes.
There are several checkout lines, each with at least five checkout lines on each side. Cashiers rifle through piles of merchandise, run credit cards, and then move on to the next one. It’s an impressive assembly line of capitalism.
I ended up purchasing a polo shirt, a t-shirt, a hat and a mug. Compared to almost everyone else around me, it seemed like a meager haul, and I ended up only carrying one bag with me for the rest of the day.
A sea of people outside the entrance to the Masters golf shop on Tuesday. Ben Jared via BI
The whole experience made me feel like the Masters had become a retail giant that just happens to have a golf tournament. And the numbers back it up: The 2022 tournament brought in $69 million in merchandising revenue, according to Forbes, which was far more than it brought in from tickets and concessions.
Attendance data isn’t made public, but the consensus is that about 40,000 people attend the tournament each day, meaning each visitor spends an average of $246 at the merchandise store.
But that assumes an infinite supply. A guy I met at my hotel said that last year the store had to stop selling merchandise by Friday because it ran out of stock. It’s also possible that people are less obsessed with merchandise Thursday through Sunday, when the actual golf tournament takes place, so Monday through Wednesday practice session audiences could boost that average.
It seems more likely that the typical patron is racking up even more than $246 — people carrying six bags were definitely carrying five figures worth.
So, in the end, what is all this for? The answer is quite simple: credibility and status. Golf is already an expensive sport played largely by the wealthy. To stand out in that already elite crowd, you need to take extreme measures. You have to wait in lines and shell out hundreds (thousands?)
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the store wearing my new Masters hat.