We can't have been alone in feeling that Ian Poulter's performance on the first day of the Masters finally loaned some much-needed heft to the flighty claims being put about (not least by the golfer himself) that a place awaits him among the sport's elite.

Just look at the statistics from his round: the Hitchin-born man combined a pair of pale green slacks with a loose-fitting white shirt, striped sparely in matching pale green and worn together with a pair of green and white spats, the whole ensemble touchingly accessorised by a pale green sun visor. Taken whole, this outfit put Poulter somewhere between a veterinary nursing assistant and a serving of mint ice-cream. If that wasn't a top-level display of sheer golfing excellence on the biggest stage of all, show us one that was.

You can't beat Augusta. Of all the major golf fashion shows, this is the one that really sets the tone for the season and no other event on the calendar so definitively nails the Zeitgeist, polo shirt-wise.

As Justin Rose, my Times colleague and the leaderboard-topper on the first day, remarked, something about the Masters course just brings out the best in him. And how. He chose black trousers with a glossy detail on the stitching, lending the back pockets, dare one say it, just the merest playful hint of denim. Jeans, of course, remain, in the trouser department, the biggest of golfing taboos, so this was a ferociously bold choice. But it paid dividends in a round of four under par. Contrast Phil Mickelson, who also favoured black, but, lacking the witty detailing, merely ended up looking as though he was attending a sponsored funeral.

Inevitably, people were looking to last year's winner to set the tone and Zach Johnson did not disappoint, in a salmon top with simple navy trouserage and an understated, dark visor. Although undeniably pink, the effect was modest - a wise selection, in the context. We've seen the occasional returning winner (mentioning no Ian Woosnams) go down the first fairway like a carnival float. It never goes down well.

By contrast, it surprised many of those looking on from beside the fairways to see Tiger Woods get it so wrong. Widely tipped as unstoppable before the tournament started, Woods was expected to dress up to that billing, but instead chose a thinly hooped top and outsized grey slacks, which gave him the appearance of a man on holiday. He played a bit that way, too.

Belts are wide this year and trousers are loose. The budget airline cabin crew look is very popular (Steve Stricker, Boo Weekley and Brandt Snedeker, among others). And red is the new black, while black is the new white, and all three were combined to slightly confusing effect in the shirt of Padraig Harrington, who possibly ought to have done better, given his experience.

It was also disappointing to notice the predominance of plain white polo shirts, worn with relaxed-fit cream chinos, a look we have seen before so many times and now associate almost exclusively with dress-down Fridays and/or early summer barbecues with the bank manager. Ernie Els and Lee Westwood were among the conservative offenders here. Would it hurt these guys to experiment, even with an ornate belt buckle or a splash of colour in the glove area? Something, at any rate, that would make them look less like a corporate tent?

At the same time, it's only fair to note that the thick morning fog, which delayed the tournament, set a new premium on visibility and if you were out as late as Westwood was on Thursday, “wear something bright at night” would quickly become your motto.

No trouble spotting Sergio García. Unfortunately, the Spaniard looked so last season in a broad-collared, flame-red shirt and matching cap. And to think how much this player has promised, down the years. Time, perhaps, to go away and retool his approach to the wardrobe.

There was much to praise, though, not least Paul Casey's brilliant white, Croydon disco pants, which were offset with an electric green top, and Johnson Wagner's Robin Hood-style forest green slacks, which worked like camouflage around Amen Corner.

Our early leader, though, was Trevor Immelman, whose white shirt, worn with dark trousers, featured a large brown patch on the yoke. Design feature or iron on too hot? We don't know. But either way, we liked it and we put him at the top of the leaderboard going into day three. Remember, though - this is golf. It can all change overnight.

Chambers adventure should be a sprint, not a marathon

Still no place in the Castleford Tigers starting line-up for Dwain Chambers, alas. It's almost a fortnight since the redemption-seeking sprinter announced his unforeseen arrival in professional rugby league, but a second weekend is set to pass without him pulling on the shirt.

We're encouraged to think that the training is still going positively, though. Many of the rudiments that necessarily eluded Chambers in the first flush of his passion for the league code (the number of players in a team famously being one, as was revealed in the commemorative press conference) will be second nature to him by now after intensive sessions in front of the whiteboard. And this, in turn, should have given him confidence to grasp some of the sport's more arcane details, such as how many minutes make up a half and, by extension, how many minutes make up a full game.

Backed up by a course of audio cassettes - “Speak Rugby League In Seven Days” - for in-car use, Chambers' self-assurance will be increasing daily, to the point where he may even be ready soon to address the sport's most elusive mysteries, such as its use of a “ball”, which, at least in plain geometric terms, is no such thing.

Meanwhile, we understand that Chambers continues to get duffed up on a regular basis with the tackle bag, amply simulating the effects of instant immersion at professional level in a contact sport. Reports coming out of Castleford even suggest that Chambers' regime has been stepped up to include sprinting as fast as possible - but not automatically in a straight line.

The dream, then, is still alive. At the same time, it can't hurt Chambers to know that we're getting a little twitchy out here. The romance of this tale depends, for its impact, on the narrowest of timeframes. Think of those makeover shows where the team “only has 2 hours” to cover someone's garden in Japanese pot plants while they are out shopping. The work always takes place against entirely arbitrary time constraints, and understandably so because without them it's good night to dramatic tension.

The same goes for Chambers. “Disgraced Sprinter Goes From Zero To Rugby League Pro In Under A Fortnight” is a story. “Disgraced Sprinter Narrowly Makes It To The Bench After A Month” - well, big deal. Step it up, Dwain, or lose your audience.

Ned Kelly-look has much to offer battered Cech

After the horrific and freak training ground accident that left him needing 50 stitches in his lip and chin, news emerges that Petr Cech may yet play on, before the end of the season, with a face mask. This, of course, would be in addition to the scrum cap that the Chelsea goalkeeper continues to wear since suffering a fracture of the skull in 2006. You begin to wonder how much protective clobber a single man's head can carry before he simply cuts his losses and starts going out in an upturned fire bucket with eye holes. It worked for Ned Kelly. Well, up to a point.