AUGUSTA, Ga. -- At 7:38 a.m., on a cool morning as radiant as his smile, Arnold Palmer emerged from the clubhouse at the Augusta National Golf Club and made his way toward the first tee, a pale-blue sweater on his back and Gene Sarazen on his mind.

He had made the walk many times before -- 50 in all since 1955, when he first played in the Masters -- and the entrance always seems to be the same. Heads turn. Necks strain. Crowds part, almost biblically. This was no different.

Thousands began streaming toward the first tee when the gates opened at 7:30 a.m., waiting to see a slice of tradition be recaptured by a man who brought that and much more to the Masters. "Looked like 20,000 people flooding through that gate," Palmer would say later.

They came to see the King, make no mistake. What they got, though, was a rebirth. Perhaps a small measure of history.

The moment was bigger than even Palmer imagined. Almost too emotional.

For years, Palmer, 77, resisted the notion of being an honorary starter at the Masters, a role that hadn't been performed here since Sam Snead died in 2002. Now, in the moments after he did it, the only thing he resisted was crying.

"It was a little emotional," Palmer said, standing outside the clubhouse. "But I held it off."

There he was yesterday morning, on the first tee at Augusta National -- "Back where he belongs," said Masters chairman Billy Payne, introducing him to the crowd -- slashing at the one and only ball he would hit, sending it some 200 yards into the left rough. With that, Palmer did more than officially start the 71st Masters.

He returned a sense of normalcy to the tradition, that, well, is unlike any other.

"I think we're back to where it was, where it should be," Palmer said.

He was talking about the Masters, the tradition.

Palmer helped build it, with his swashbuckling flair, his magnetic personality, his four green jackets. But he was worried the tradition was waning, even plummeting.

He never liked the policy instituted several years ago that at first prohibited, then later discouraged, past champions from competing in the Masters. He never liked the letters sent by former chairman Hootie Johnson to older players, delicately explaining that the expanded Augusta National layout -- pumped to 7,445 yards -- might be too much for their shortened swings to handle.

"That affected me," said Palmer, who never received a letter. "I was a little disturbed by it."

It bothered Palmer because the lifetime exemption extended to past champions is the reason he got to play with Sarazen in his first Masters appearance in 1955. They were paired in the first round, and Palmer has never forgotten the moment.

That pairing is the reason Palmer, after years of resisting the notion, finally accepted Payne's invitation to become an honorary starter. Sarazen had performed the duty, too, from 1981 to 1999.

"He wouldn't have been here if that rule had been in effect then," Palmer said.

But, as he warmed up on an empty practice range yesterday morning, hitting about 20 balls and making sure he used the Callaway driver that gives him more distance, Palmer could not stop thinking about Sarazen. This time, he became even more emotional.

"I got touched a little more than I thought I would," Palmer said.

Sarazen was with him all the way to the first tee. The only time Palmer didn't think about him was when his thoughts were displaced by fears of his opening tee shot ("I didn't want to top it," Palmer said).

"To fulfill Mr. Sarazen's role was very emotional for him," said a friend, David Chapman, 46, dressed in the traditional all-white bib and serving as Palmer's caddie, even if it was only for one shot.

Palmer didn't top the ball. Matter of fact, he struck it pretty well, considering the circumstances. Airborne, slight draw, bounding into the left rough. Not that anyone would have really cared.

"Everybody just wants to see him," Chapman said. "They don't care how he hits it."

This wasn't about Palmer hitting another tee shot at Augusta.

It was why he hit the opening tee shot.

"I hated to see that get lost," Palmer said. "I suppose I had a little objection to the fact that some of the traditions of Augusta were taken away."

Not anymore, thanks to the King.