The 80-year anniversary: Byron Nelson (1937)

Evidence strongly suggests erstwhile Augusta National club professional Ed Dudley was a better player than teacher. His most famous pupil was Dwight Eisenhower, who so often sent his tee shot at 17 whistling into the branches of a recalcitrant loblolly pine that the 34th president of the United States famously and unsuccessfully demanded the tree be scythed down.

He knew the game all right, though. In 1932, Big Ed – a towering 6ft 4in Pennsylvanian – finished tied for third at the PGA. Five years later, he became the first man to finish in the top 10 of all four modern-era pro majors. That run started with a third-placed finish at the fourth staging of the new Masters Tournament. A little local knowledge went a long way and after three rounds Dudley stood in second place, tucked in three strokes behind the leader, Ralph Guldahl. Byron Nelson, who had opened with a 66, was a further shot back after a seemingly disastrous 75 on Saturday.

Dudley blew his chances of winning early on Sunday, though, taking a double-bogey seven at the long par-five 2nd. The final day should have turned into a procession for Guldahl but the 12th and 13th were the scenes of the first great turnaround in Masters history. Guldahl double-bogeyed the short par-three 12th and dropped another at the par-five 13th. Nelson, by contrast, drained a monster putt on 12 for birdie, then chipped in at 13 for eagle. A six-shot swing – and the title was Nelson’s. “I never thought about my chances,” he shrugged afterwards. “When I shook the lead during the third round I felt I was going to win. I didn’t like the idea of staying out in front.”

On his following five visits, Nelson finished fifth, seventh, third, second and, in 1942, first again, when he defeated Ben Hogan in an 18-hole play-off, shooting 69, despite starting off his round with a double bogey. Nelson’s legacy at Augusta National stretches further than his two wins. A stone bridge by the 13th tee – which replaced a wooden affair constructed by German prisoners of war – is dedicated to him, while the pond to the front-left of the 11th green, a fun feature into which so many dreams have sunk, was his idea.

Byron Nelson lines up a putt at the 1937 Masters. Photograph: Bettmann/Bettmann Archive

The 70-year anniversary: Jimmy Demaret (1947)

Bobby Jones, the 13-times major-winning amateur and co-founder of Augusta National, always wished a fellow non-professional would win the Masters. Frank Stranahan nearly fulfilled the dream in 1947, shooting a Sunday-best 68, but he finished two shots shy of the eventual winner, Jimmy Demaret. Such a shame for the legendary Jones, although sympathy is in shorter supply for Stranahan, a bodybuilder who would deliberately fill his luggage with weights, then laugh uproariously when the bellhops struggled to carry his bags.

Demaret was a character as well, albeit one who was a little easier to warm to. He wore clothing so brazenly colourful he would have made Payne Stewart look like Johnny Cash. Having learned to play in Galveston, where he could hear the sea winds blowin’, he was able to fire one irons so low pals quipped they could “hang laundry on them”. He never bothered with practice, preferring to swill beer and trade zingers with good friends Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. “You have a great short game,” he once told Hope. “Unfortunately, it’s off the tee.”

Demaret was a hot talent but of all the stars who have won at least three Masters – Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer, Tiger Woods, Sam Snead, Gary Player, Nick Faldo and Phil Mickelson are the others – he is the only one in slight danger of becoming lost in the mists of time. Fortunately, he is easy to locate in the bright egg-yellow shirt he sported for his second triumph in 1947. He led the tournament from start to finish and despite being chased hard by Stranahan, Nelson and Hogan, protected his lead by wisely reining in his swashbuckling tendencies and laying up to take water out of play at both 13 and 15.

Having closed it out, Demaret spent the rest of the day heaping praise on playing partner Bobby Locke of South Africa. Both men had shot 71, Locke ending his first Masters eight strokes off the pace. Demaret pointed out how astonishing a feat this was, given Locke had only just set foot on US soil for the first time that week, and had never before played with the larger American ball. Locke went on to win six tournaments on the US tour that year alone, finishing second to Demaret on the money list, despite having missed the first half of the season.

The 60-year anniversary: Doug Ford (1957)

Doug Ford sends up a geyser as he blasts out of the water on the 15th hole in the 1957 Masters. Photograph: Horace Cort/AP

Jordan Spieth took four hours and 10 minutes to get round Augusta on his way to winning the 2015 Masters. Danny Willett’s final round last year lasted four hours and 20. Penny for the thoughts of Doug Ford, the oldest surviving Masters champion. Ford won his title in 1957 and was described in a contemporary Sports Illustrated article as going around the course “in Mach One … he gallops up to his shots, takes a quick look and fires”.

This freewheeling approach nearly cost him that year’s Masters. Or won it for him, depending how you look at it. On the Saturday afternoon he went for the par-five 15th in two and nearly dumped his three wood into the drink. He was forced to shed his socks and shoes, leap into the blue vagueness and splash his way out of trouble. He ended the third round three shots behind Sam Snead – but he flew out of the traps on Sunday, with a birdie at Tea Olive. He picked up more shots at 8, 12 and 14, then found himself in the middle of 15 once again. His caddie desperately begged him to play safe and handed him an iron. But Ford was in no mood to lay up and hit his three wood again. “I’m not a very good safe player,” he later explained. “I took a spoon and tore into the ball with all I could. When I gave the caddie back the iron and took the spoon, he said: ‘Mr Ford, you’re gonna cost me 100 dollars with this shot.’ I didn’t cost him, though!”

Ford birdied the hole, holed out of a bunker on the last from 30 feet for another, threw his sand wedge high into the air in wild celebration, and signed for a bogey-free 66. Snead, meanwhile, fell apart with dropped shots at 9, 10, 11, 13 and 14 and finished three behind Ford. “Yeah, I thought I had it by the eighth,” Snead shrugged. “I was shooting good and was relaxed. Heck, I’m still relaxed!”

Ford defended his title well, finishing second in 1958, a shot behind Arnold Palmer. Arnie effectively sealed the deal that year by playing a controversial par-saving provisional ball at 12, then making eagle at 13. Cue another contemporary Sports Illustrated article, one that would echo down the ages, Herbert Warren Wind recording the fateful events around the turn, with reference to an old Bluebird jazz recording: Shouting At Amen Corner.

The 50-year anniversary: Gay Brewer (1967)

‘The happiest man in history’ Gay Brewer grins as Jack Nicklaus helps him into the Green Jacket at the 1967 Masters. Photograph: Anonymous/AP

Gay Brewer had gone very close to winning the 1966 Masters. Standing in the middle of the 18th fairway on Sunday he sent a simple nine iron to the back of the green,60 feet, the first sent five-feet wide, the second a smidgen on the low side. A bogey at the last – and one that put him into an 18-hole play-off with Jack Nicklaus and Tommy Jacobs. “I’m depressed,” Brewer told reporters that evening. His mood didn’t lighten the following day as he shot 78, Nicklaus becoming the first player to win back-to-back Green Jackets. As Brewer trudged off, shoulders slumped, our man, Pat Ward-Thomas, sadly observed: “For the rest of his life Brewer may regret taking three putts down the long menacing slope of the last green yesterday.”

A year later, the Masters was broadcast live to the UK for the first time after an agreement to ping CBS pictures across the briny via the fancy new Early Bird satellite. The programme started at 9.55pm on BBC2, between a showing of the Mario Monicelli movie masterpiece Big Deal on Madonna Street and Late Night Line-Up with Joan Bakewell. Thinking woman’s crumpet Harry Carpenter presented, Dai Rees and John Jacobs extemporised whenever CBS went to adverts, while the actual in-play commentary was provided Stateside by Charles Coe and Billy Joe Patton, club members at Augusta National.

Nicklaus warmly congratulated his victor, who was quick to offer an apology for misinterpreting events

Coe and Patten were selected partly for their knowledge – both were distinguished amateurs with high finishes at the Masters to their names – but mainly because they were not members of the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists, which was on strike at the time, depriving CBS of its usual commentary team. Coe and Patten kept it minimal; viewers loved the approach. The size of CBS’s mailbag, teeming with complimentary letters, was the only thing that spoke volumes.

The BBC, having cleared its schedule and invested time and money, would have been hoping for a stellar tussle between Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer and Gary Player. What it got instead was a classic feelgood story. Brewer had been a man in form in 1966, having won the Pensacola Open the month before his near-miss. In 1967, he won the Pensacola again but this time went one better at Augusta. He was chased all the way by the former PGA champion Bobby Nichols but made birdie at 13, 14 and 15 on Sunday to right the wrongs of the previous year. This time, there was no blue funk. “I may be the happiest man in history,” he grinned. “I’m choking up!”

The 40-year anniversary: Tom Watson (1977)

Tom Watson putts on the 18th green during the 1977 Masters. Photograph: Peter Dazeley/Getty Images

1977 is a year remembered principally for the Duel in the Sun at Turnberry. But three months before the greatest Open, Tom Watson and Jack Nicklaus traded blows in the Masters, too. The Golden Bear, with five green jackets in his locker already, started his final round three shots behind the 1975 Open champion. He scrambled a fine birdie on the 1st, then blootered a monster drive down the 2nd to set up another. By the time he reached 15, he was seven under for his round.

But Watson, playing in the final pairing, wasn’t cowed. He made birdies at 5 through 8 and although he dropped shots at 10 and 14, he picked them up again at the par fives, 13 and 15. Birdie at 13 was made despite a righteous fume; peering down at the green from the fairway, he witnessed Nicklaus making birdie and acknowledging the cheering crowd, mistaking all the gesticulating as a display of gauntlet-down defiance.

All of which meant the pair were level at 11-under down the closing stretch. Nicklaus blinked first. Or rather, Watson forced him to, stroking a downhill right-to-left 20-footer into the cup for birdie at 17. Up on the 18th fairway, Nicklaus, preparing to hit his second, heard the gallery roar and decided to go for the pin rather than the heart of the green, as per his original plan. His mind uncharacteristically addled, he found the bunker, from which he failed to get up and down. Watson made par at the last and won by two strokes. Nicklaus, waiting greenside, warmly congratulated the victor, who was quick to offer an apology for misinterpreting events on 13. They were pals again, having shot 66 and 67 on the final day. Crazy to think Turnberry would ping this shootout into a cocked hat.

The 30-year anniversary: Larry Mize (1987)

Larry Mize celebrates after winning the 1987 Masters. Photograph: David Cannon/Allsport

Larry Mize had been on the pro tour for seven years but had only the one win to his name, the 1983 Danny Thomas Memphis Classic. He had something of a reputation for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, hence his rather unfortunate nickname: Larry D Mize. But his luck would change one day, right?

The pre-tournament joint-favourites in 1987 were Greg Norman – who had completed a “Saturday Slam” the year previously, leading after three rounds in all the majors (albeit with an unfortunate win conversion rate of one in four) – and Seve Ballesteros. Both men were in the hunt after three rounds, on a crowded leaderboard headed by the 1984 champ, Ben Crenshaw, and Roger Maltbie. The 1985 winner, Bernhard Langer, also hotly tipped, was a shot off the lead alongside Norman; Seve was one further back with Mize.

The final 18 holes, largely forgotten now as a result of what would follow, were eventful enough. Crenshaw and Maltbie never really got going and shot 74s. Langer posted a 76. Mize was out slightly earlier than the big names so got his work done in relative peace and quiet, despite being a local lad. He made an 18-foot birdie putt on 7, holed out from 25 feet for par at 11, sunk one of similar length for birdie at 12, then made another at 13.

The beginning of the Tiger era – and one of those rare events that can genuinely be described as epochal

Having reached the top of the leaderboard, the old D Mize turned up to cause chaos. He made bogey at 14, then found water at the back of 15 to drop another shot. But this time Mize dug in, creaming a lovely approach into 18 that landed 30 feet from the hole before spinning back to four feet. Birdie. A fine final-day 71 – and he had posted a mark.

Ballesteros and Norman looked to have blown it in their own ways. Seve simply wasn’t firing, one-over for his round through 14, while Norman had bogeyed four holes between 6 and 11. But late birdie runs brought them back to Mize. Norman actually had a 15-footer on the last for the outright win, having sunk a 40-footer for birdie on 17. But his effort shaved the hole; a three-way play-off was this tournament’s destiny.

It was only the third sudden-death play-off in Masters history. The format had been introduced in 1976; in 1979 Fuzzy Zoeller saw off Tom Watson and Ed Sneed, while in 1982, Craig Stadler had bested Dan Pohl. Despite the efforts of Bubba Watson and Louis Oosthuizen in 2012, the 1987 version is still the most memorable. Seve missed a four-footer at 10 and trudged back up the hill in tears; Mize bundled in a 40-yard chip from the right of 11 to stun Norman. So much for Larry D Mize. His actual middle name, incidentally? Hogan. Seems nominative determinism was in full effect after all.

The 20-year anniversary: Tiger Woods (1997)

Tigers Woods hits a four-foot putt on the 18th hole to win the 1997 Masters. Photograph: Stephen Munday/Getty Images

The greens ran particularly fast on the opening day of the 1997 Masters. Colin Montgomerie, in search of that elusive first major, shot a promising first-round 72; only seven players went lower on treacherous greens. “They’re scarier than any Disney ride,” Monty reported. “If you walked on them in leather-soled shoes, you’d slide off.” His compatriot Sam Torrance, after a 75, was quicker to the point. “Fucking hell. Fucking hell! And you can quote me.”

Ken Green, who played on the USA Ryder Cup team in 1989, four-putted the 2nd and five-putted the 16th on his way to an 87. To be fair, he was dealing with an injured thumb and was planning to pull out when he discovered he was paired in the second round with Arnold Palmer, a chance he couldn’t turn down. Coming down 15, he sent a friend to get him a beer from a concession stand. “Arnie,” he told the living legend, “I’ve got to have a beer with you, so I’m having one.” Green toasted the King and made birdie at the hole.

Three of the four pre-tournament favourites failed, like Green, to make the cut. Greg Norman, who had crumbled so dramatically with the prize so close 12 months earlier, knew 1997 wasn’t going to be his year either as early as the 2nd green on Thursday; he faced an eight-footer for par, then a 40-footer for bogey. A 77 was followed by a 74. Phil Mickelson shot 76 and 74. And the defending champion, Nick Faldo, dumped two balls into Rae’s Creek at 13 on Friday; the nine was his highest score at any single hole at Augusta, the 81 he signed for was his worst round there and it was the first time in 14 starts he had missed the cut. Faldo was reduced to kicking his heels over the weekend, waiting to present the Green Jacket to Sunday’s winner as tradition dictated.

Only the 21-year-old Tiger Woods, playing in his first major championship as a professional but with three tour wins already to his name, lived up to his billing. He started rather tentatively: so fearful was he of the speedy greens that he underhit a four-foot par putt on 3 by half the distance and he was four over at the turn. But on the 10th tee he showed a maturity way beyond his years, leaving his driver in the bag and calmly playing for position with a nerve-settling two-iron. It set him up to come home in 30, a back-nine score that only 11 other players had matched in Masters history.

The tone was set. Tiger shot 66 the following day to secure the halfway lead. Monty signed for a 67, in second place, three shots back, but it was typical of his timing that having finally put a couple of decent rounds together at Augusta a sensation had pitched up to render his efforts futile. Monty shot 74 on Saturday; Tiger had a 65. “We’re all human beings here,” sighed Monty, “and there’s no human possibility that Tiger is going to lose this tournament.”

Woods shot a comparatively sedate 69 on Sunday but still beat the second-placed Tom Kite by 12 shots, a new record victory margin in a major. He had broken the aggregate Masters record set by Jack Nicklaus in 1965 and matched by Ray Floyd in 1976. And he had snatched Seve’s record as youngest Master champion by a couple of years. The beginning of the Tiger era – and one of those rare events that can genuinely be described as epochal.

The 10-year anniversary: Zach Johnson (2007)

Of course, not every event can be epochal. That’s all right though. Well done, Zach!