Augusta National Golf Club makes few promises.
It grants Eldrick Woods no guarantee that he will fist-pump and sandblast his way to another Tiger slam 12 months from now.
It offers frequent second-fiddler Phil Mickelson little consolation that the pear blossoms and periwinkles coating Amen Corner will serve as the backdrop for his first major triumph.
It provides Greg Norman no assurance that The Shark can redress his 1996 Masters collapse by one day feasting from golf's most splendid cornucopia.
Augusta only signs its name to two things: Stories will be told, and in the process, dreams will be made.
Woods' undisputed reign atop golf's throne weaves the central thread through the patchwork quilt defining Augusta 2001. But other fantasies, less astonishing yet equally charming, were captured last weekend.
Foremost among those dreams was that of James Driscoll.
A former Virginia Cavalier, Driscoll cashed in his second place finish at the 2000 U.S. Amateur Championship for the chance to cross Hogan's Bridge and walk Magnolia Lane. On Thursday afternoon, however, Driscoll did far more than visit his personal Mecca. He tamed it.
Forget Woods. Forget Mickelson. They'll have their lifetime of fame. Driscoll only wanted his 15 minutes, and he wound up netting about five hours worth.
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First came the daunting downhill lag putt that the 23-year-old dexterously placed right in the belly on hole four. Next arrived another 25-footer, this one a meandering sidewinder at nine that Driscoll willed home. He polished off the first-round masterpiece with bunker saves on both 16 and 18.
Driscoll's improbable 4-under-par round of 68 nestled the amateur into a four-way tie for third place, rubbing shoulders with all the heavy hitters.
"No expectations," Driscoll said afterward. "I didn't think of the outcome of any shots."
Ultimately, he would fail to qualify for the weekend after an expected drop-off to 78 in round two. Amid Augusta's cruel reminders, though, lay memories only Rae's Creek and Founders Circle can give a hotshot from Massachusetts.
There was the "Crow's Nest" cabin perched atop the clubhouse where Driscoll and his four fellow amateurs spent their nights dreaming of green jackets. Such visions may never materialize for 35-year-old Los Angeles caddie Greg Puga or Finnish prodigy Mikko Ilonen or D.J. Trahan or Jeff Quinney or even Driscoll. But lodged high above the perfect pinks and gorgeous greens below, they could still dream.
There was Tom Watson - a two-time Masters champion - pacing stride for stride with the kid. After Thursday's performance, Watson would gush that "it's the best round I've ever seen an amateur play here." Those words will not soon be lost on Driscoll.
Then there were the 40 family members who provided all the support this little-known newcomer would need.
After Driscoll's startling showing, the "James Gang" and the suddenly Driscoll-cognizant golfing community undoubtedly expect the Wahoo to become a mainstay on the national stage for years to come.
Future successes are anticipated, but none are guaranteed. Just as Woods may never again don the green jacket (however unfathomable that seems at present), so too looms the prospect that this fledgling feat at the Masters could be Driscoll's last.
If the Masters never hears from him again, James Driscoll can extract two lessons from venerable old Augusta: Nothing is guaranteed, and nothing is forgotten.
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