Tiger Woods wriggled happily in his fifth green jacket. 'Ah, it fits,' he sighed contentedly. He was home, at last. Cosy in the Butler cabin, his family close at hand. He watched film of his first Masters win, hugging his father at the back of the 18th, juxtaposed with the embrace of his son, Charlie, moments earlier. But he didn't cry for the cameras. He didn't lose the moment through a mist of salty tears. He had been through too much on this journey. He was all cried out, long ago. And it had all been worth it. It was approximately 1.50pm local time on Sunday when play around Augusta was momentarily suspended. Not for the threatened weather front that had played havoc with the final day schedule, but because a different kind of thunderstorm was blowing through. On the 16th tee, Woods had unlocked a portal to the past. His eight-iron to the green had pitched perfectly and was rolling, rolling, rolling towards the hole. America screamed its encouragement and raucous approval. Tigers Woods smiled as 2018 Masters champion Patrick Reed (left) gave him the green jacket 'Ah, it fits,' said a beaming Woods after putting on the famous jacket at Augusta on Sunday Woods had won his first Masters title way back in 1997, when Nick Faldo gave him the jacket Woods began ball-whispering, too, his murmured implorations encouraging each rotation as the slope did is thing. The object of all this futility came to rest some three feet from the hole, but it would be quite some time before those in proximity could get on with their game. The cheers echoed and echoed, the chants too. Augusta does not shed it decorum like this often; but then this is arguably the greatest comeback in American sporting history. Short of rolling a stone from the entrance to his tomb it is hard to imagine Woods could have done more to make this miracle happen. At the champions dinner here in Augusta two years ago, it took a cocktail of drugs that could stun an elephant just to get him to the table. Once there, he could barely sit for long enough to eat. He whispered to his dining companions that he was done. Not with the meal, but with golf. And not just with championship golf, either. Any golf. His physical state was such, there was no form of the game that was not out to hurt him. He wouldn't even be able to play for fun, with friends, with his kids once they had grown. It was a pitiful end. Yet Tiger Woods: medical miracle, is just one strand of this remarkable story. What the world witnessed on Sunday was about more than just the physical, the triumph of science and intellectual imagination that has rebuilt a broken man. At Augusta, Woods reconnected with his grand historical legacy, with what he was and what he could yet be. He even broke new ground, coming from behind on the last day to win a major for the first time in his career. And as Ian Poulter pointed out on Friday, statistically, a 43-year-old – Woods is the same age as the Englishman – has a three per cent chance of winning the Masters. So Woods overcame more than just gruelling personal trauma. He beat age, he beat a field of younger men that had grown used to talking of him in the past tense and he beat pressure; the pressure of competition, and the pressure he has placed upon himself, to get back to here and to win again, at a time in his life when his children are old enough to see and understand. They were here on Sunday, at the side of the 18th green, as he brought it home. Charlie walked beside him as he strode to sign for his card, proud as punch. American Woods won the Masters for a fifth time but it was just his first major win since 2008 Woods was a very popular winner and the majority of fans in the crown looked pleased for him They were the ones he made a bee-line for after the winning putt had dropped. Mum, daughter, son. He hugged them close, whooping, screaming, punching the air, emotions that those who have known him longest said they had not seen before even amid his greatest victories. Woods in his prime spent so long tightly wound, so focussed, so buttoned down, so measured in all he did that this untrammelled joy felt as revelatory as the achievement that inspired it. It is harder now. Not just because of age, or the stringent fitness regime that gets him on the course each day – bringing the tee times forward to beat the approaching storms, necessitated a 3am start, he said – but because the fields are so deep with talent. Woods described the leader board as a who's who and within two shots of the lead at the end were the winners of four US Opens, two PGA Championships and an Open. No Masters winners, though. Woods had them there. After Francesco Molinari, in particular, made a series of crucial mistakes, it was Woods local knowledge and his innate course management once ahead that steered him home. That, and genius; because, if his body holds up, this is what is revealed. A genius of the golf course. The greatest player of his era: an era that now spans 22 years. On the par four ninth, Woods made an uncharacteristic mistake with his second shot, finding the wrong part of the green. So wrong, in fact, that he cracked an ironic smile at his foolishness. He was putting downhill, from around 80 feet, over two plateaus with a side slope. Each time the ball rolled down towards another small plateau it would gather speed. It was not the type of putt any professional would have practiced, because no professional would envisage ending up on that part of the green. It would be like practicing hacking out from underneath a gorse bush, or from the members' car park. That stuff isn't meant to happen. Nobody gave Woods a chance. It was a three-putt for sure. Woods hit it 12-foot. To clarify: the putt travelled much further, but the momentum from Woods' putter carried no more than 12 feet. Gravity did the rest and when the ball came to rest it was a tap-in from the hole. 'Nice putt,' said Molinari which, as understatements go, would be a bit like telling the members of Augusta National that the old place scrubs up well. Tiger's mum Kultida (left), girlfriend Erica Herman (right) and two children were at Augusta Woods hugged his mother as the eyes of the world gazed at him via countless cameras Maybe, by then, Molinari sensed what he was up against. The Tiger of old; the Tiger they all thought had been consigned to history when they spoke so glibly of wishing they could take him on again. Those in closest proximity to Woods on Sunday did not seem to be greatly enjoying the re-engagement. In that way, the weather helped him. For the first time since 1973, faced with afternoon thunderstorms, the Masters organisers felt compelled to hurry the last day format. The tee-off times were brought forward to early morning, and instead of pairs, groups went out in threes. Had the schedule gone ahead as planned Molinari would have been joined by Tony Finau with Woods in the penultimate pair. Instead they became a trio. This allowed Woods to exert pressure directly. It is surely no coincidence that, by the end, none of the other golfers in the top four places were in Woods' group. Finau and Molinari were tied, joint fifth, with two others. They had been well and truly Tigered. It could be argued this has been coming. Woods was in contention at the 2018 PGA Championship and led the Open at the tenth on the last day. Yet until he got over the line, until he showed that his back would hold, not to mention his nerve, no-one would have believed it. Major golf really is no country for old men, and Woods may have been reborn, but he couldn't wind back years. Maybe it meant too much to him now. Maybe as the sand drained from the hourglass the desire was simply too great. Maybe, 11 years since his last major, Woods had simply forgotten how to close. He seemed a little confused, even in victory, saying the biggest challenge was looking at the leaderboard and trying to work out what was going on elsewhere on the course, while staying present and focussed. 'It was an amazing buzz, though,' he said. 'I kinda liked it.' And if those words do not send the smallest shiver down the healthy spines of his competitors, they are not paying attention. Woods may emote more than he used to but everything else about his play on Sunday suggested, now reacquainted with his genius, nothing else had changed. As they say in the south, this wasn't his first rodeo. And it's unlikely to be his last. All rights reserved for this news site dailymail and under his responsibility