It was April 7, 1963, the beginning of Jack Nicklaus' run of infamous days at Augusta National.

Ken Bakst, age 5, has little first-hand knowledge of the event. All Bakst knows is what he's read, and if you listen to his wife, Suzanne, he's read just about everything ever put down on paper about his golf hero.

So how does Bakst, who turned 40 on Sunday, celebrate Jack Nicklaus Day at the National, 35 years to the day of Jack's first green jacket triumph?

Oh, the same way all of us who've ever picked up a golf club and daydreamed about walking up the 18th to galleries six-deep would like to: by teaming with Fred Funk to play with and beat Jack and his partner (some guy named Palmer) in a friendly little Nassau Tuesday afternoon on Jack's grounds.

Someone pinch Bakst -- fast.

Today, Bakst will play nine more holes with a fellow Stanford grad, Tom Watson. His Thursday playing partner is Ben Crenshaw, the man he toiled with in Monday's practice round.

All those who would like to be Ken Bakst for a day, please step forward. OK, now get in line.

He may not be around to contend this weekend, nor is one of the household names that dot the Masters field, but rest assured that no one is having a better time than Ken Bakst.

``For an amateur golfer, can it ever get any better than this?'' he pondered. ``I'm living out my dream.''

After winning the USGA event at the Dallas Athletic Club last October, Bakst didn't know which letter to cry about first: the congratulatory note that Nicklaus, the Mid-Am's honorary chairman, wrote to him after he won, or the invitation to play in a Masters Tournament he's followed since he could tell a birdie from a bogey.

Well, Bakst wrote Nicklaus back and floated the idea of playing a practice round together. Jack wrote back in January, said sure, see you at noon Tuesday.

The very next day, Bakst, basking in his bronze glow, opened a letter from Arnold Palmer saying he'd love to play a practice round with him at noon Tuesday.

Oh, no. Invitations from both Nicklaus and Palmer. What does a man do?

``I thought right then, `I'm in a heap of trouble,''' Bakst said. ``I called Doc Giffin (Palmer's assistant) and luckily we worked it out.''

After receiving his Masters invite, Bakst brought his family to Augusta for two weekend stays in January and one in both February and March. Can't get enough of a good thing, right?

But the enormity of his dream fulfilled didn't exactly punch him in the jaw until last Sunday when, playing by himself, he walked up the 7th fairway and gazed across the pines.

``There was a scoreboard up, there were some players I recognized as tour guys, and I'm thinking, `Gee, I'm in the Masters,''' he said.

In all, there are 12 family members with Bakst and 15 more friends who made the drive south from the Big Apple. Suzanne, camera dangling around her sunburned neck, used up one of her two rolls of film while her husband stood on the first tee box, schmoozing with idols to his left and right.

Then, without warning, the two idols granted the rich, black-haired amateur the honors.

Up stepped Bakst, his hands trembling, and he yanked his drive straight to the 9th fairway. Funk mocked him, twitching as well, and he was laughing wholeheartedly until his drive flew into the tree line as well.

``Better to be left,'' Suzanne Bakst said, ``than not hit it at all.''

``You'll do fine,'' Bakst said Nicklaus told him. ``Just calm down. You'll figure out the bounces and you'll do fine.''

He did OK. Birdies at 6 and 8 and a trip into Rae's Creek on 12 were highlights.

Augusta National may have honored its most decorated champion, but Tuesday afternoon was truly Ken Bakst Day.