Boy, would Tiger like to find a fairway here,’ said former professional David Feherty. ‘Preferably one attached to this hole.’ It was that sort of day. Tiger Woods had worked so hard on his short game, the other quality needed to take a safe passage through these parts had been forgotten. He chipped like a champion; he drove like a boy racer. Somewhere in the ether, golf’s gods pointed and mocked. So Tiger’s short game is killing him? Opposite. There has been so much yip yap these last few weeks it was forgotten that Woods was becoming more erratic off the tee, long before his chipping went west. From the first, when he drifted into a bunker on the right, to the final par five, when he fired one into the crowd, castigating himself as a ‘dumbass’ — although a shout of ‘fore’ might have been more helpful — Woods took the long road around Augusta. The galleries were packed as crowd favourite Tiger Woods struggled on his first round at Augusta . Woods reacts to a poor chip shot on the third hole as the pressure begins to tell . Woods feels the heat at Augusta with the world No 111 struggling to get under par during the opening round . That he recorded a relatively respectable score — some significant distance off the lead, but certainly in the ball park of what would have been considered a reasonable number given that this was his first competitive golf for two months — was testament to his cussedness as much as his talent. Tiger dug deep and his play around the greens saved him. It was remarkable, really, considering his crisis of confidence. On the sixth, a par three, Woods missed the green again. He looked more than irritated, he looked worn down, fed up with a sport he once held on a string. He no doubt remembers how it used to be, too. How he must miss that old Tiger. He walked to the ball, perched at the top of a small incline to the right of the green. And he putted it. Rolled it down the slope, got it near enough. Settled. But, even so, it was a tell. The best poker players don’t have tells and Tiger likes Las Vegas as much as any high roller. But he saw his hand and, on that occasion, he blinked. It was still a Tiger gallery, of course. Still the biggest, still primed to applaud even the tiniest glimmer of his genius. But they would have recognised this as Tiger bluffing. Rewind through a decade and he would have conjured something small and miraculous with a short iron, made the ball pitch and spit and stop almost at his command. He would have shown the mastery of a charmer with a mesmerised snake. Putting from off the green? That was for the old guys and the also-rans, those without the bravery or the genius to make the ball obey. So Tiger got it close and made the solid up and down. Sure, they’re part of the game and every pro relies on them, even the all-time greats. But he was coming to need them, more and more. He won’t be entirely comfortable with that. He couldn’t putt at the 11th, when he again missed right and left himself a rascal of a chip. If Tiger’s short game was as bad as it had looked last time, the ball could easily have taken a bath. Instead, he recovered, just like old times. Then put it in the water at the 12th instead. Golf’s gods thumbed their noses and pulled faces behind his back. ‘I made two dumb mistakes,’ said Woods. ‘That apart, it was a good day. The short game was my strength, it was the reason I worked my butt off — to make it my strength again.’ Even so, dramatic saves weren’t all the old Tiger was about. There was a shot on the seventh that would have been a contender for play of the day. That is why they continue to hurry when he has played, no matter the needs of his patient partners. Tiger hits and off they go to see Tiger hit again. But Tiger is hitting more and more. Not the 82 times he hit at the Waste Management Phoenix Open in January perhaps, but more times than he would have hit in such benign conditions at Augusta in the old days, when he wouldn’t have been so pleased to tie for 41st place after 18 holes. Still, the seventh. Boy it was a beauty. He was behind a tree, left of the fairway, barely in sight of the green. He took a giant hit, dug it out but with such power and ferocity. The crowd lost the flight, the cameraman too, but Woods didn’t. He skipped and peered around the forestry to see the ball drop out of the sky, onto the green to a Sunday afternoon reception. Momentarily it was 1997 all over again. And then it was 2015 again and he left his 25 footer short. Par. Woods was not impressed with his approach shot to the 10th, but he managed to salvage par on the hole . Woods' beau Lindsey Vonn was in attendance as her other half mopped his sopping brow with a towel . Woods, Jimmy Walker and Jamie Donaldson walk to the 6th green during an absorbing day's play . Increasingly, his gallery writes cheques the man in the arena cannot cash. They were 14 rows deep just to watch him walk the ten strides from putting green to first tee. Eight on one side, six on the other, five marshals, wrestling with rope, and several baseball-hatted G4 security men. A local sheriff marched past, perspiring through his regulation white shirt. Even for Augusta in April it was unseasonably warm: 89, according to the Weather Channel. It was approaching 1.48pm Eastern Time. Tiger o’clock. The 14 rows fidgeted expectantly. Tiger breezed through, to applause, cheers and the odd whoop; the love of the common people. He nodded in appreciation once, mouthed a noiseless thank you, smiled a tight anti-smile. And then he was gone. Swallowed up as the ropes dropped and the crowd fell in behind him. Will he, won’t he? Could he, couldn’t he? They had seen the man, but would they ever see The Man? He was coming here with a new game, and a new mindset, but was this a new Tiger? Woods lines up his putt on the par three sixth as the 15-time major winner had a solid start to the day . Woods shows his fury at a chip from a bunker on the fourth,  but he managed to steady the ship . Woods patrols the Augusta fairways on a largely frustrating round for the former world No 1 . No. Not a new Tiger like the old Tiger anyway. Too much, too soon. He was better than the Tiger that departed Torrey Pines in February, with fears for his long-term future. Better for all that graft, that sun up to sun down perseverance. But he was still the 111th ranked golfer in the world. A bit rusty, a bit erratic, a bit brilliant, a bit fallible. There were fine moments, but they were fleeting. He got better through the round, but he would have eaten this place alive in the good old days. And that is Tiger’s problem. It’s a bit like Al Pacino in Carlito’s Way. Every time he tries to get out, they pull him back in. The creaks, the chunks, the odd crisis of confidence that just wasn’t there before. He starts to get going, he works his ass off, but it is hard. He three-putted the first, birdied the second. Hit a tree off the tee on the third, but got a lucky kick onto the fairway. Found a bunker, then missed the green on the par three fourth, played a quite stunning second from a poor fairway lie on the fifth. It was the golf of a competitor still battling against the years, and the aches of a creaking back and — whisper it — maybe yips that could resurface at any time. He won’t go quietly, the competitor remains, but he is vulnerable now. If it is isn’t one thing, it’s the other. Woods wills his second shot from the 14th on with the galleries gripped on the unfolding soap opera . Woods looks anxiously as his tee shot from the 15th sails into the still Georgia skies on a perfect day for golf . Woods finished the day at one over as he looks forlornly at a shot on the eighth .
The Masters 2015 crowd wanted Tiger Woods to do well at Augusta .
He was still the 111th ranked golfer in the world. A bit erratic, a bit brilliant, a bit rusty, a bit fallible. And, fleetingly, a bit marvellous too .
The gallery was 10, 12 deep around the greens. Still in awe. Still ready to applaud even the tiniest glimmer .
But the sizeable gallery is writing cheques the man in the arena can no longer cash .
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