Sam Snead walked in and walked out of Augusta National on Thursday morning, and that may be the best news so far this week.

Wearing a solid black V-neck sweater with his trademark straw hat , Snead performed like a three-time Masters champion with a bit of Smithsonian in him, fragile enough to1 make you not touch but kickin' with enough gumption to make you want to pinch him and make sure he's for real.

There wasn't that reverential glow about him Tuesday, when, after driving up from his winter home in Palm Beach, Fla., he complained to his son Jack Snead of dizziness and nausea. Jack also grew concerned for his 85-year-old father when his speech started to slur. Snead was taken to the hospital.

He looked beaten. He looked tired. He looked very un-Snead-like.

``I didn't want to take any chances,'' said Jack, who caddied for his Dad on Thursday and handles his business affairs. ``He said by the time the afternoon was over all that had cleared up. But we still didn't know.''

You never make assumptions with legends.

Jack Snead suspects that jetlag may have caught up to his father, and that may be the only thing to slow Sam Snead down in decades.

So Snead's price of receiving the full medical monty Tuesday night was missing his first Champions Dinner since the meal's inception in 1952. It's not so much the meal that draws the 25 members, it's the opportunity to hear Snead tell some Snead stories.

And without Snead in attendance, the whole atmosphere proved to be a bit more morose.

``Fortunately Sam kicked some windows out at the hospital to be here,'' is how Augusta National chairman Jack Stephens introduced Snead at the ceremonial first tee ceremony Thursday.

Said Byron Nelson, age 86: ``I've known Sam a long time, and I knew he'd be here if he had to crawl.'' It would take a symptom far graver than jetlag to ground Snead.

``The good news to report is that Dad's got blood pressure equivalent to a 30-year-old,'' Jack said.

And the competitive juices to hang with this year's field of extreme golfers.

At age 85, Snead wouldn't mind engaging you in a friendly wager or two, then counting his change as you wonder if this octogenarian just sandbagged you.

Jack reports that Dad can claim a hole-in-one with every club in his bag, and that he'd even used his 3-iron left-handed and still scored an ace. Jack reports, and this one is difficult to picture, that Snead could play left-handed, playing left-handed clubs, and still shoot par.

Snead won Masters in 1949, 1952 and 1954, which Augusta National founder Bobby Jones claims as the greatest tournament in history -- according to Snead. That year, Snead outdueled Ben Hogan in an 18-hole Monday playoff by a shot, a year after Hogan had won his first title.

``That Bobby Jones was a real nice fellow,'' Sam Snead said Thursday. ``I played two rounds with him and one exhibition.''

Snead's heroics predate Tiger Woods, predate Jack Nicklaus, predate Arnold Palmer, predate Amen Corner, predate just about everything associated with this 62nd Masters.

He stepped up Thursday, soaked in the ovation, and swung his beautiful swing. The Slammer would rather play nine holes instead of just showing off once, but his fellow honorees Nelson and 96-year-old Gene Sarazen don't have his fire anymore.

The last time Snead did, he shot 1-over par here. He was 80 years old.