EVERYONE HAS AN OPINION about which event truly heralds the arrival of spring–baseball’s opening day, the cherry trees blossoming in Washington, Easter Sunday. But for me, and doubtless for golf nuts across the land, it isn’t really spring until the Masters golf tournament arrives in mid-April, assuaging the bittersweetness of what T.S. Eliot called “the cruelest month.” (Perhaps he foresaw the agony of filing one’s taxes at the last minute . . .)