The Masters Test: A Better Way to Measure Great Content

An emotional run sparks a revelation: the best content makes us feel something real, just like The Masters.

I'm crying while running, and it's not because my legs hurt.

Let me explain. I'm on my usual lunch time route, listening to a podcast about The Masters golf tournament (shout-out to Kevin Van Valkenburg and the No Laying Up crew—if you want to feel something yourself, go listen to their Masters Special Projects episode). In the beginning of the episode, KVV is describing his most memorable Masters—his is the 1997 iteration where Tiger captured the first of his five green jackets—and his relationship with his father. You can hear the soul in KVV’s voice as he talks about the hug Tiger shared with his father on the 18th green and that moment of connection so many fathers and sons share with each other.

And here I am, getting choked up not even a quarter of a mile into my run. Not because I've hit the wall or because my shoes are too tight, but because this story—this simple story about golf and family—made me feel something. It made me think of my dad and our connection through golf. It made me want to stop my run and call him right there to just tell him I love him and that I’m so excited to follow the Masters together.

As I keep running, my mind starts ping-ponging between all these Masters moments they're discussing. Nick Faldo's victories. The Tiger Slam. That electric Sunday when Tiger and Phil were paired together. Beyond the shots and scores, the feeling sticks with me. The way Augusta National turns into this time machine every April, connecting generations through shared memories. The way my heart rate quickens when I hear the soft piano of the Masters theme song. The way my dad and I can talk for hours about a single tournament from decades ago.

And that's when everything clicks: Augusta matters because it makes us feel something. The Masters matters because it stirs something in our souls. It becomes an emotional touchstone, bringing people together and creating unforgettable moments.

Right there, in the middle of my run, it all becomes clear: This is what we should be chasing. Not just in marketing or content creation, but in everything we make. Every story we tell. Every experience we build. We should be pursuing that same electric feeling you get when Jim Nantz's voice carries you back to your childhood living room. That spark of connection that makes you want to call someone you love. That moment when something stops you dead in your tracks—or makes you cry during your lunch run.

Maybe it’s similar to what Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously said about obscenity: "I know it when I see it."

Or in our case: I know it when I feel it.

I'm calling it The Masters Test, because like Augusta National, the best things we create should stir something in people's souls. It's not about metrics or algorithms or whatever's trending—it's about that raw, honest moment when something breaks through and makes us feel truly alive. When was the last time you made something that stopped someone in their tracks? That made them reach for their phone to share it with someone they love? That maybe, just maybe, made them tear up during their lunch run?

Because here's the truth: In a world where we're all drowning in noise, the only signal worth sending is one that makes people feel something real. Something that matters. Something that lasts longer than a scroll.

What Makes Something Pass The Masters Test?

The beauty of Augusta National goes beyond its perfectly manicured fairways or the azaleas in full bloom. It's in how these elements come together to create something greater than the sum of their parts. The same goes for anything that passes The Masters Test.

Here's what I've noticed about content, campaigns, or experiences that make people feel something real:

They become units of conversation

Great content transforms consumption into connection. When something passes The Masters Test, people can't help but share it (credit to Samir from Colin and Samir for coining this phrase). Not because they want the likes or because it's trending, but because they genuinely want someone else to feel what they felt. Think about it: How many times have you and your dad rehashed that final round from 2019? How many times have you shared that one commercial that made you tear up? Or even a TikTok recipe because you wanted to cook it with your partner? It's that instinctive urge to grab your phone and text someone "You have to see this." It's the way great content transforms from pixels on a screen into conversations over coffee, debates at dinner tables, and messages between old friends. When something truly resonates, it becomes currency in our relationships—a shared experience that brings people together. The best things we create spark discussions, debates, and sharing between people who care.

They tap into something bigger than themselves

The Masters weaves together golf, tradition, family, excellence, and the passage of time. When Tiger hugged his dad in '97 and then his son in 2019, we were witnessing the universal story of fathers and sons, about coming full circle, about legacy. Think about the best Super Bowl commercials—they're rarely about the product. They're about love, ambition, family, or triumph over adversity. Or consider how Apple doesn't sell phones; they sell the ability to capture life's precious moments. When we create something truly meaningful, we tap into the stories and emotions that make us human. The stuff that moves us always connects to these bigger, universal human truths.

They respect their audience's intelligence

Augusta National doesn't need to tell you why it's special—it shows you. The best content works the same way. It doesn't beat you over the head with its message or dumb things down. It trusts that you'll get it, that you'll feel it. It's like pretty much every single Jim Nantz call at the Masters—he knows when to speak and, more importantly, when to let the moment breathe. This respect for the audience shows up in the details: the subtle storytelling, the space for interpretation, the trust that viewers will connect the dots themselves. It's the difference between screaming "THIS IS EMOTIONAL" and creating something that actually makes people feel emotions. Great content doesn't explain the joke; it trusts you to get it.

They prioritize feeling over formula

There's no "hack" to create emotion. No framework that guarantees goosebumps. The Masters doesn't follow a social media playbook or optimize for engagement metrics. It simply focuses on creating moments that matter, on maintaining traditions that mean something, on telling stories that resonate. Everything else follows naturally. This might seem counterintuitive in our data-driven world, where every decision needs to be backed by metrics and KPIs. But the truth is, the most impactful things we create often come from a place of genuine emotion rather than strategic calculation. It's not about ignoring the metrics entirely—it's about understanding that true engagement starts with genuine feeling. When you make something that matters, the numbers tend to follow.

The Masters Test in Action

The beauty of this test is that it works across the entire emotional spectrum. Just like Augusta National can make you feel joy, tension, heartbreak, and triumph—sometimes all in the span of a single hole—great content can stir any genuine emotion. Let's look at some examples that pass The Masters Test in different ways:

The Joy: The Good Good Par 4 Hole-in-One

Sometimes magic happens when you least expect it. If you haven't seen the Good Good guys nail a hole-in-one on a par 4, stop reading this right now and go watch it. I'll wait. This video is feeling over formula at its finest—no fancy production tricks, no manufactured drama. Just pure, unfiltered joy when the impossible becomes possible. The reactions are real. The excitement is contagious. The high-fives and celebrations feel like you're right there with them. You immediately want to share it with your golf buddies. Even reading the YouTube comments years later, you can feel the electricity of that moment and find many a golfer sharing stories of their own on-course adventures.

The Heartstring Pull: Any Humane Society TikTok

Every time I scroll past one of these, I immediately have to go find my cat, Winnie, and give her an extra squeeze (she definitely thinks I'm crazy, but I don't care). You know the ones—where they show the before and after of a rescue, or the moment when a scared shelter animal finally trusts their new family. These videos become perfect units of conversation—you can't help but share them with fellow pet lovers or tag that friend who's been thinking about adopting. They spark discussions, drive donations, and create real-world action not because they're designed to go viral, but because they naturally connect people who care. Each share becomes a mini-conversation about compassion, responsibility, and the joy of giving animals a second chance.

The Adrenaline Rush: Nike's "Failure" with Michael Jordan

"I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career..." That voice. That truth. When Jordan talks about all his failures—the missed shots, lost games, game-winning shots he didn't make—it hits differently. This ad taps into something much bigger than basketball or sneakers. It's about resilience, perseverance, and the universal human experience of falling down and getting back up. Nike isn't selling shoes here—they're selling permission to fail on the way to greatness. It's bigger than sport; it's about the human spirit.

The Laugh That Lands: Andrew Luck's Mic'd Up Moments

Ever seen those mic'd up clips of Andrew Luck getting absolutely demolished by defensive linemen? Most quarterbacks respond with choice words that need to be censored. Not Luck. He's out there complimenting the very guys trying to crush him: "Nice hit, big man!" "Hey, nice hit buddy!" and my personal favorite “You’re a menace out here, boy!” This is respecting your audience's intelligence at its finest. NFL Films didn't need to explain the joke or voice it over with the gruff narrations of Liev Schreiber. They just let Luck's genuine, oddly wholesome personality shine through while he's getting pummeled.

You Know It When You Feel It

I finished that run that day and all I wanted to do was call my dad. Not to analyze metrics or debate strategy—just to tell him I love him. That's what great experiences do: they move us to action, to connection, to feeling something real.

Whether you're building a brand, designing an event, launching a startup, or creating content, The Masters Test isn't just about marketing—it's about making things that matter. Things that stir something in people's souls. Things that create moments people never forget.

Here's the thing about The Masters Test: beneath all our strategies and frameworks, beneath all our metrics and KPIs, we're humans trying to connect with other humans. Whether it's through laughter, tears, inspiration, or that can't-quite-name-it feeling you get when Jim Nantz whispers "Hello, friends" on a Sunday in April.

So before you put your next creation out into the world—whether that's a piece of content, a campaign, a product, or anything else that matters to you—ask yourself:

• Does it make you feel something?

• Would you share it with someone you care about?

• Does it tap into something bigger than itself?

• Are you trusting your audience?

• Are you choosing feeling over formula?

Because at the end of the day, the best things we create aren't measured in likes or shares—they're measured in goosebumps, in tears, in that instinctive urge to grab your phone and text someone "You have to see this."

Just like The Masters, the best of what we make doesn't need to explain why it's special. The magic is in making people feel it.

And trust me, you’ll know it when you feel it.