The application is officially in.
Hey losers-
That means I have once again filled out the form, clicked submit, and immediately started assuming I will be bestowed the title of Patron.
So now we enter the most dangerous part of the process:
The waiting period where nothing has happened, nothing will happen for a while, and yet my brain starts quietly designing an imaginary trip to Augusta anyway.
A brief window of irrational confidence
This is the sweet spot.
Not the hopeless phase. Not the rejection phase. The tiny stretch in the middle where the application is done and the dream is still alive.
Right now there is no bad email. There is no polite rejection language. There is no “unfortunately” waiting in my inbox.
There is only possibility, however statistically irresponsible that may be.
And honestly, that is enough to carry me for at least a few weeks.
The confirmation page is doing its job
It does not promise anything.
It does not lead me on.
It does not suggest any reason to believe that this is finally the year the golfing gods smile upon me.
It just states the application was received and that I need to be patient, and wait.
Which is absolutely reasonable.
Unfortunately, reason has never played a major role in this tradition.
The annual delusion begins
This is usually the point where I start doing little mental calculations I absolutely should not be doing.
What day would I want most? Who is going to join? How many times would I say “I can’t believe this is real” before becoming unbearable to everyone around me?
These are not productive thoughts.
These are lottery-season thoughts.
And they arrive right on schedule every year.
For now, we wait
So that is where things stand on June 2, 2026:
I applied. I got the confirmation. I have no meaningful update beyond that.
And yet morale is high.
We will revisit this in late July when Augusta decides whether this story takes a shocking turn or continues its proud tradition of emotional damage.
Until next time, losers.