Tiger Woods ensured the story did not fall flat on his return to the Masters

What a day for golf. What a day for sport. Trust Tiger Woods to make sure the story didn’t fall flat. Trust the miracle man to conjure up yet another from his seemingly inexhaustible supply.

‘Just somehow get me to the first tee, adrenaline will kick in at that point,’ the 46-year-old had urged his team of surgeons and physical trainers.

Followed on every step of an unforgettable journey by a vast army of patrons who could scarcely believe what they were witnessing, Woods defied all logic and expectations with a one-under-par 71 that left him just four shots off the overnight lead held by South Korean Im Sung-jae.

Dressed in the same striking shade of pink as the fuchsia lining the holes at Amen Corner, Woods delivered a thinking-man’s masterclass. The man who once overpowered the course with brute strength did it this time with brainpower and exquisite touch.

To think, we began this day wondering whether his body could cope and how much game he had left after so long laid up. Now … well, how big do you dare to dream?

When it was over, it was literally back to cold reality for Woods. Back to the ice baths and the hours of recovery — and then on Friday, he will go again.

‘It’s lots of treatment before and after, and the ice baths are awful, all the shivering and shaking, but it’s worth it to get off to a positive start,’ he said.

‘From the moment I got out of bed after three months away, there hasn’t been a day off but I’m so proud of my team. It’s led me to this … and, as of right now, I’m only three back.’

After 14 hours of thunderstorms, leading to two hours of grey skies and drizzle, what happened as Woods made his way through the vast crowds to the first tee for one of the most eagerly-awaited opening rounds in Masters history? The sun came out. Of course it did.

Could he add a speck of white to the emerald fairway now bathed in a celestial light? Actually, he missed on the right, though not in a bad spot according to his gallery.

In the time it took him to walk 280 yards, those gathered nearby had worked out every permutation for his next shot. ‘Play to the front of the green, chip and putt and get out of there, no problem,’ said one.

‘A bogey’s never a bad score on the first,’ reckoned another, less optimistic voice.

The Augusta gallery know what they’re on about. Woods did indeed play for the front of the green, leaving himself the sort of chip he had spent a considerable amount of time rehearsing in practice. Here’s where experience tells, knowing that with the chip you are far better off 10ft short with an uphill putt for par rather than 5ft past.

After leaving himself the preferable effort, the roar was considerable as the best clutch-putter in the history of the game rolled it in for a four.

It’s fair to say there was quite a bit of trepidation among his audience at the start. What if he shoots 80? Or starts limping badly? Four pars to start settled everyone down. Then to the fifth, the least known but most difficult hole on the front nine.

Iron play, chipping and putting. That’s what Augusta is all about. Woods’ iron shot, as ever, was as pure as you like.

Needing to land it in an area the size of a car tyre to get it close, he did just that and was walking the 12ft birdie putt in, like all the great moments of old, until he stopped abruptly as it horseshoed cruelly out.

No matter. At the par-three sixth, another steepled iron was so good it looked for one moment as if it was about to finish in the hole, before drawing up 18 inches away. A couple of spectators behind the green started crying. ‘Two hours I’ve waited here and it was so worth it,’ said one. ‘Seriously, is anyone watching anyone else?’ the other enquired.

Woods was one under par and his name was inserted on the adjacent leaderboard. The Augusta roars, like no other in golf, were sweet indeed.

That birdie at the sixth was the moment when it all changed, when people went from just being glad to see the great man in the flesh to realising that he really hadn’t turned up just to smell the fuchsias. The moment when doubters become believers once more. By now, we were all so transfixed that his first bogey — at the par-five eighth — was a rude awakening.

When his next drive finished in the trees, the tension in the gallery was palpable, before Woods calmed fraying nerves with a nerveless 10ft putt for par.

There were two more at the pair of daunting holes to begin the back nine. At the 11th, the enormous numbers who gather at this spectral meeting point for Amen Corner really were in rapture.

So to the 12th, the hole Tiger had played in 10 shots on the final day here in his last competitive match 18 months ago. This time he hit a smart shot away from the flag, showing the discipline and the humility of a five-time Masters champion. For any green jacket aspirant, it was a clinic.

It continued with a two-putt birdie at the 13th. At the 14th, a poor drive was followed by a wonder blow that went unrewarded as he took three from the back of the green for a bogey.

At the par-three 16th, yet another imperious iron shot. Has any golfer ever played so many? Perhaps only Ben Hogan, the other miracle man who came back from a near-fatal car accident.

Woods rapped home the 20ft putt and we had the first clenched-fist salute of this, the most improbable of all his comebacks. What a privilege it was to witness.