Dear Billy,

When you became chairman of the media commitee at the Masters I remember we used to chat together. I would sometimes stop at your desk and steal an apple or banana or you would come into the press gallery. We met at the Saturday evening party the club hosted for visitors from Britain. I enjoyed those exchanges and I was pleased when you suggested I should write a story about some of the members at Augusta National because they seemed to you to be such characters.

That story was never written but here is one that might. Now that you have become chairman, can I persuade you to reconsider the way in which the course is likely to be prepared next year? What has happened in 2007 and 2008 is simple: the course has been made too difficult and it is not all down to the cold of 2007 and the wind of last week. Some of the unique appeal of the Masters has gone as a result.

I am of the old school when it comes to course set-up. "Make 'em squeal," I say. I remember the words of Gerald Micklem, the sage of Sunningdale, and one of the great forces for the better in British golf from the end of the war until his death in the late 1980s. When players started complaining about the difficulty of a golf course he used to smile and say: "But it's meant to be difficult. This is an S [scholarship] level not an A [advanced] level."

I have attended nearly 30 Masters and I can say without fear of contradiction that these past two years the players have been presented with a course that many found too difficult. I think a line has been crossed. You have added 75 yards to the 7th since the 2001 event, 40 yards to the 11th and 30 yards to the 14th. The average score this year was nearly 74 against a par of 72. There were 24 eagles on the inward nine in 1997, 21 in 1999 and 11 last year. As I say, I think a line has been crossed. Only slightly, but enough.

When the challenge of a hole is so severe that few players are prepared to take it on, and play safe instead, where is the challenge? I thought it was very significant on Sunday that both Immelman and Snedeker aimed at a point well to the side of the 11th green rather than go for the flag. I know that a gusting wind was wreaking havoc out on the course but you did know it was coming. Do the spectators, the patrons, want to see some of the world's best players aiming away from a flagstick on a par 4? I don't think so.

In case you think my views are not representative let me quote three players in support of my case. And not just any three either but men who have won the Masters eight times between them. Ben Crenshaw: "It plays much harder. Is it interesting?" Phil Mickelson: "It is always fun to come here but after the changes of a few years ago, we don't see the same excitement and birdies that we used to." Tiger Woods: "It is like a US Open course."

A consequence of the toughening up that has been done to the course is that some of the very special aspects of the Masters have disappeared. Where were the Sunday afternoon roars this year? The ones that greeted Jack Nicklaus's 30 on the homeward nine holes in 1986 or Mickelson's startling run during which he birdied five of his last seven holes in 2004 to pip Ernie Els, who, incidentally had two eagles in his 67. It is a part and parcel of the atmosphere of the Masters that as you watch, say the 12th, so the roars find you through the pines from the 13th green or the 15th and as you sit on the verandah of the clubhouse the noise billows up to you from the inward nine.

Another consequence is there has been a blurring of the line between the Masters and the US Open. The latter prides itself on presenting the most difficult test a player will face in most major championships. The USGA's aim, as Sandy Tatum said so memorably, "is not to humiliate the players but identify the best." This can be interpreted as follows: make it as hard as we can.

In the past ten years there have been two glaring examples of major championship venues that have not been set up entirely fairly. At Carnoustie for the 1999 Open the fairways were too narrow, the rough too luxuriant - and then the wind blew. At Shinnecock Hills for the 2004 US Open the pin position on one green on the outward nine on the Sunday was so precarious and the speed of the green so fast that the first six groups to play it averaged three putts each. The green had to be watered between groups. I do not believe that you want the Masters to become thought of in these terms and so far it isn't. But it might.

The Masters is a unique tournament with a unique feel to it but the relationship of the past two events to many of their predecessors is that of a peach cobbler to a mint julep.