Caddie's Role:The Masters for Retief Goosen began in earnest on Friday afternoon amid the towering pines and leafy magnolias to the right of the 18th fairway. My boss had holed a 12-foot putt for birdie on the 17th to get back to plus six for the 71st Masters.

Gauging the cut mark is always difficult in a major because of the 10-shot rule. The authorities figure anyone within 10 of the leader after two rounds has a chance.

Possible of course, but highly unlikely.

The havoc a bone-hard Augusta National was wreaking on the world's best must have been sobering for the average chopper to witness. Zach Johnson's three-putt from as many feet on 16 did all of us on the borderline a huge favour. It brought the eventual winner back to two under after two rounds, and with the wind stiffening, it was unlikely anyone would better that.

I explained to my colleagues in the caddie shack over a tilapia-and-salad lunch that we had lost a ball on the 18th.

"Never!" they responded in reference to what must have been a first in Masters history. With so many spectators, marshals and officials around, someone always at least sees where errant balls finish, whether in an azalea bush or a hazard.

The tee shot on the 18th required a fade with the northwest wind. Retief let it take too much of the wind. As the balls drifts right off the tee you notice players and caddies training ears to hear if it hits a tree. Sure enough, there was a very loud thonk off a sturdy Georgia pine. Many saw it hit the tree but never saw it come to rest. History had been made again in Augusta: the only 30-metre pine tree to swallow a ball. Either that or a patron went home with a Goosen souvenir.

Retief went on to make a four off his second ball, walked to the locker-room and packed his bag for the journey home. In such circumstances, golfers always pessimistically assume they have shot one too many to make the cut.

But this was the 71st Masters, where the course has been fattened on chemicals in the preceding months and carefully starved of sustenance, particularly water, once April came.

There had been serious rainfall the week of the Masters in recent years, and that has been the only natural ally of the players. There was just a sprinkle early last week, barely enough to keep the dust down. The organisers, left to their own devices, wanted the course to be like porcelain. The greens were so firm on Friday your feet hurt when you trod on them; I felt like I was wearing hobnailed boots and walking on glass. The last time I saw such rock-hard greens was in Shinnecock Hills at the US Open 2004.

Anyway, thanks to some bizarre occurrences, we somehow made it to the weekend. We got drawn with a past champion, Fuzzy Zoeller.

Fuzzy is 55 and a unique, old-style golfer who gets on the tee, pauses whatever conversation he happens to be having, hits his shot and resumes talking. Playing with him in the Masters is the most relaxing experience you could wish for on a course not otherwise designed for relaxation. As we waited for the pair ahead to putt out on 16, Fuzzy clipped his nails and smoked a cigarette.

Retief shot 70, which may not sound brilliant but turned out to be the round of the day. I went back to my lodgings to watch the oil-smeared hairpin bend otherwise known as Augusta National on television. From the comfort of an easy chair, I watched almost the entire field go into free-fall while we catapulted from 60th to eighth by close of play.

From missing the cut to having a realistic chance of winning - there was a seismic shift in attitude in the Goosen camp by Saturday night.

Golf, despite its sometimes mind-numbing repetition, is played on momentum. Especially during the final round of a major.

Retief had his trusted old putter, with which he has won his US Opens and many other titles, in the bag again for the first time this year. He holed out heroically on Saturday. His form held up on Sunday; he had an eight-foot putt to go to five under for his front nine.

He hit a good putt, but missed his chance on the high side. Every putt he hit on Sunday was a good putt. If he missed from a makeable distance the putts all missed on the high side and always looked like they had a chance to go in.

There is a comfort in playing the final round and giving yourself an abundance of chances. In this sense Retief's round was less stressful than it might have been. As the leaderboard took shape, two over looked for a time like a winning score.

We took a defensive line around Amen Corner. You need an element of fortune to win. Our tee shot to the par-three 16th pitched exactly where a you would want it to - or so we thought - four metres past the pin and six to the right.

Maybe 999 out of 1,000 balls would feed down to the pin from there; for the ball to stop where it did seemingly defied physics.

You need nerve, belief and talent to win a major. You also need to make the cut. Making it on the mark and easing around Amen Corner with a legitimate chance on Sunday would suggest the 10-shot rule is a worthy tradition.