A dazed look in his eyes, Rickie Fowler zipped up his Puma top until it could go no further, as if it would shield him from the barrage of words he knew were coming his way. He stood in his high-top shoes, probably wishing that he could use them to dig into the manicured turf and somehow find an escape route. One day gone, and his Masters was all but over.

Fowler – yet to win a Major, but bunched together with Rory and Jordan and Jason as the face of a new generation and one of the “Big Four” – had signed for an opening round 80, eight-over-par, that took everyone’s breath away as much as the stiff wind that whipped through the cathedral pines.

Some four and a half hours earlier, Fowler had stepped onto the first tee alongside Zach Johnson and Cheng Jin with a sense of anticipation.

Late starters

He must have felt he’d caught a break too with an early tee-time, a chance to shoot a score and to sit back and watch as the late starters coped with an ever-stronger win. It didn’t work out that way.

In fairness, he didn’t run away to hide; he came out to face the music, his months of build-up and anticipation left among those holding up the field from the bottom after a poor first round.

What do you say? Keep it simple.

“How disappointed are you right now?”

One word answer: “Very!”

But the ground didn’t open up to swallow him. He had to stay and explain, to revisit in his mind the horrors of what had happened.

Where did it all go wrong? That’s the easy part. The 13th hole – an iconic Par 5 that is under consideration to be extended by a further 50 yards – had shown its teeth are sharp enough already. Fowler ran up a triple bogey eight there.

Fowler’s tee shot was pushed into the trees and nestled in the pine straw. His second found a route to safety. Sort of. He managed to get through the trees, but finished in an area trampled down by the spectators. “It was wet and matted down,” he explained later.

His third shot came up short of the green and plunged into Rae’s Creek. His fifth (after a penalty drop) was rushed and bounded over the green. A chip and two putts later, and he was done. “It’s tough, golf’s not an easy game,” said Fowler.

His season to date hadn’t indicated anything like this was on the cards. He’d had four top-10s in eight outings on the PGA Tour and there was a sense that his time had come to join his pals in the Majors club. He’ll have to wait for another time.

In one round, Fowler’s dream had been torn to shreds, his thoughts already shifting forwards to the US Open, British Open and US PGA that might salvage something from the carnage. Had there been any sign that a round like this was beckoning?

“No, obviously, golf’s tough, it is a fine line, especially at this place . . . . it can go either way and it can definitely go the other way, the high number way, a lot easier than it can the low.”

He was speaking from recent experience, the mental wounds still fresh . . . . and knowing that it would take time to heal.