^{This article originally appeared on Business Insider.}

When the Masters golf tournament kicked off this Thursday, those watching on TV were treated to the usual assortment of sights: lush green grass, immaculate flower beds and the world's greatest players putting on a show.

But an even tougher competition will be behind the scenes: the battle for authentic Masters merchandise.

Of course, seeing superstars like Tiger Woods and Scottie Scheffler in person is cool. But so is loading gear emblazoned with the famous yellow Masters logo, which has become a beacon of cult-like status.

I was lucky enough to attend a Monday practice round for the Masters and was able to see the excitement of the trade up close and personal.

When I showed up at Augusta National Golf Club with my family (shout out to my dad, who secured the tickets after a decade-plus of lottery attempts), I quickly noticed the number of people already heading for the exit. They each had six to eight bags filled with shirts, hats and towels, and many of them had the most wanted item of all: Garden gnome master.

^{A close up of the much sought after garden gnome. Christian Petersen via BI}

The tour allows one re-entry per day, so it's possible that those people would dump their goods in their car. But it wasn't lost on me that they could be part of a legion of resellers making thousands marking up and dumping authentic items. To get an idea of ​​how profitable this can be, check this out 2023 Masters gnome is listed for $1200 on eBay. (Original price: $50.)

After making our way further up the access path, we saw the start of the line. It stretched 50 feet from the actual entrance, which was followed by a series of winding metal gates reminiscent of a TSA checkpoint. Directly in front of the entrance, there was a sea of ​​people standing shoulder to shoulder, moving forward, trying to make their way to the current course. It reminded me of going between stages at a music festival. I would have snapped a photo of the hubbub, but the Masters no phone rule made documenting the trip difficult.

Being on the main line feels a lot like waiting for a trip to Disney. Once you enter the building, there is a large room and hallway with winding gates. The line seems to lengthen at every turn. What are the other 20 minutes when that sweet treat is at hand?

After about 45 minutes, we reached the actual shop. The last step is to wait for about five minutes at an entrance before they let in a new flood of shoppers.

Once inside, the mania is high. There are separate sections with alcoves for men, women and children. A giant display of household goods stands in the center of the store. Countless shirts and hats are displayed on the wall and busy workers rush to retrieve items from overhead bins of various sizes.

There are several lines of cash registers, each with at least five registers on either side. Cashiers go through piles of merchandise, swipe credit cards, and then move on to the next one. It's an impressive assembly line of capitalism.

I ended up buying a polo shirt, a t-shirt, a hat and a mug. Compared to almost everyone else around me, it felt like a small load, and I ended up carrying a single bag for the rest of the day.

^{A sea of ​​people near the entrance to the Masters Golf Shop on Tuesday. Ben Jared via BI}

The whole experience left me feeling like the Masters has become a retail con that happens to host a golf tournament. And the numbers prove it: The 2022 tournament is in $69 million in revenue from merchandise, according to Forbes, which was far more than was made from tickets and concessions.

Attendance figures aren't made public, but the consensus is that about 40,000 people attend the tour each day, which works out to an average of $246 per visitor spending at the department store.

But this assumes an infinite supply. A guy I met at my hotel said that last year, the store had to stop selling merchandise until Friday due to running out of inventory. It's also possible that people are less obsessed with merchandise Thursday through Sunday when the actual golf tournament is on, so the Monday-Wednesday practice crowd could push that average up.

It seems more likely that the typical customer will win even more than $246 – people carrying six bags were probably getting five figures worth of swag.

So in the end, what is it all about? The answer is quite straightforward: road trust and status. Golf is already an expensive sport played mostly by the wealthy. For one to stand out in that already elite crowd, extreme measures must be taken. Rows must be cut and hundreds (thousands?) must be distributed.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the store with my new Masters hat.