"They fly across oceans. It's grand, which is what describes the shot."

The hate mail has been rolling in over the use of double eagle to describe Louis Oosthuizen's 2012 Masters final round 2 at No. 2. As a maker of a 2 on a par-5 (like how I slipped that in, Johnny Miller style?), I can say that I've never once called it an albatross, and the historical record would seem to suggest double eagle has been part of the golf lexicon longer than albatross.

But as Doug Ferguson points out in this weekly AP notes column, double eagle really doesn't make sense since technically it's four-under par.

It's known as an "albatross" everywhere but in the United States, no doubt because of Sarazen, yet Sarazen once referred to his shot as a "dodo," and so the mystery continues.

"I didn't know what a double eagle was until I came to the U.S.," Geoff Ogilvy once said. "Maybe they couldn't think of a word for something better than an eagle, so they called it double eagle. But it's not really a double eagle, it's an eagle-and-a-half."

Scoring terminology went to the birds long ago.

According to the "Historical Dictionary of Golfing Terms," the word "birdie" came from the American slang of something special. The story goes that three men were playing the par-4 second hole at The Country Club in Atlantic City, N.J., when Ab Smith's second shot stopped inches from the hole and he called it a "bird of a shot." That led to a shot one under par being called a birdie. That was in 1903.

Thus began the use of birds in scoring, such as an eagle, and so "albatross" makes sense.

"It's a good bird, isn't it?" Ogilvy said. "They fly across oceans. It's grand, which is what describes the shot."

Third Masters Question: What Can We Do To Stop Announcers From Talking Over Players?

In the Masters press center the Lords provide the lowly scribes with the most amazing little console to track a golf tournament. A Stylus is provided to move around the IBM laptop screen where you can view stats, leaderboards and of course, every channel imaginable displaying golf (including the option to pick the camera coverage for any hole).

Working on various writing duties, I couldn't watch a lot of the telecast but I had headphones on and took in a fair amount of the coverage, which visually appeared to be a classic in terms of the number of shots we were shown. Sure, there are still the awkward delays when someone makes hole-in-one, we hear the roar, and it isn't shown for 15 minutes. But all in all, there is no better telecast of golf than CBS's presentation of the Masters.

Yet astoundingly, the 2012 Masters was but another example of the sound folks picking up some fantastic player-caddie conversations, only to be trampled over by the announcers. Now, I understand the broadcasting team has many voices coming through their headphones, and they may even be working under orders to explain a situation instead of allowing the player-caddy dialogue to tell the story. But I feel confident stating that I have yet to experience an announcer insight to be as interesting or informative as what the player and caddie are discussing.

Furthermore, there is no other sport where we are afforded the chance to literally hear the athlete's thoughts as the action is unfolding.

So what can we do to convince networks and announcers that these conversations are vital to the viewing experience?

Thoughts?

Oostenhuizenhuis!

Louis Oosthuizen's name continues to give people fits, as Sam Weinman notes in his Masters-by-the-numbers notes. He kindly left out the press room announcement that went out using something close to the version in this post's title.

Deadspin was not so kind, putting together this epic video compilation of butchered takes on Oosthuizen's name.

Thanks to reader BruceWiggles' Tweet showing the CBS/ESPN Par-3 contest blunder involving Louis.