William Smith

My dad got tickets to The Masters one year and took a friend of his. Apparently they were walking around the grounds, marveling at Augusta's beauty and what have you. Normal stuff for a really cool experience. At some point, they got hungry, so of course went to get some food. Everything was inexpensive, great. Part of the charm. My dad told his friend he had to get the pimento cheese, because that's *the* thing to do at the Master's (no clue if that's true or not - my dad's words). His friend just said okay, got a pimento cheese, wolfed it down, and that was the end of it. That night, back at their hotel, the friend got ill. Like, deathly ill, getting sick, fever, hives, the whole thing. They went to a hospital and the friend recovered enough for them to drive home. To this point, my dad still had no clue what in the world had happened. By the time my dad drops his friend off at his house back in Arkansas, he said to my dad: "those pimentos will get you!" This man was allergic to pimentos. Ate the pimento cheese sandwich anyway. When my dad asked why in the world he ate the sandwich anyway, the friend responded with: "I wanted the full Master's experience!" I think of this story every time I see a Master's menu.

Worth noting that Tennessee, Florida and Kentucky have accounted for 4 of the last 19 basketball National Championships. The Big Ten has NONE over this timeframe.