MY Sunday was ruined by an Irishman from Bray named Miles Byrne. But as if to underline that out of bad comes good, it emerged that David Duval is not at all the dreadful character I thought he was.

Of the 20 or so people in contention for the Open on the final day, Duval was the last person I wanted to win. My preference would have been for Colin Montgomerie followed by Ian Woosnam, and I remain convinced that had Woosie had a competent caddy, instead of Mr Byrne, he would have won.

Arguments continue to rage about whether it's the caddy's or the player's responsibility to count the clubs in the bag.

But Byrne further demonstrated his incompetence by giving Woosnam completely the wrong line for his approach shot to the 17th.

"Over the bush," he said, which was precisely where Woosie hit it, only to find himself 30 yards off target, which cost another stroke.

So with the two-shot penalty for having too many clubs in the bag, that was three strokes thrown away, and add in the two which Woosie dropped at the third and fourth, when his brain must have been in a total frazzle, and it becomes obvious that he could have won.

Never mind the hundreds of thousands of pounds it cost him, or the automatic Ryder Cup place, Woosie is at an age where he is unlikely to get another chance to win the Open.

He is to be admired for throwing the surplus driver into the undergrowth rather than ramming it somewhere from which delicate surgery would have been required to remove it.

What happened at the first was further proof that there's nothing quite like golf for kicking you in teeth. Just when you think you've got it cracked it bites back viciously.

"I've never seen him walk so fast," was Peter Allis's observation as Woosie set off in pursuit of that wonderful opening shot. Five minutes later joy had turned to despair.

Still, it's only a game. Or at least that's the new-found philosophy Duval would have us believe he adopted to help him win his first major.

I'd seen him as a spitting recluse, always hiding behind the same dreadful shades and giving every impression that he'd had a triple charisma by-pass.

Once when he spat, in full view of the cameras, Alliss described it as "most unedifying", which indeed it was.

But perhaps the great expectorations are gone, and out of his triumph has emerged the tragic tale of why he became a reclusive character.

He apparently donated bone marrow to his younger brother, who subsequently died, and Duval blamed himself.

His acceptance speech at Lytham would also have lifted him several notches in the estimation of all but those few who are close to him.

Woosie's misfortune, and the failure of others to keep pace, had turned what promised to be a thrilling final day into a huge anti-climax. But the unveiling of the real Duval certainly made it more palatable.

SWIMMING is the latest sport to be plunged into a whirlpool of confusion, but we won't let that detract from the World Championship gold medal won by Richmond's Nicola Jackson.

Young swimmers deserve whatever reward they get for their endless crack-of-dawn training stints, and Nicola has not exactly had the best of facilities on her doorstep.

The 4x200 metres relay team finished third in Japan, but after a double disqualification, a reinstatement and an appeal, they took gold.

THERE was a more clear-cut gold medal for Stephanie Cook in her farewell appearance at the Modern Pentathlon World Championships.

As her gruelling event demands even more time than swimming, she has decided to quit to concentrate on her career as a doctor.

If appearing on An Audience with Des O'Connor is any guide, Stephanie achieved a fair amount of fame for striking gold at the Sydney Olympics.

It seems a shame that Juan Antonio Samaranch junior was not at Millfield School, Somerset, to see her final appearance, even though modern pentathlon is his sport.

Just when we thought we'd got rid of the name of Samaranch from the International Olympic Committee, the retired president has managed to get his son elected, apparently on very dubious grounds.

AS if to further prove that some people are oblivious to huge clouds of suspicion swirling above their heads, Hansie Cronje now says he wants to coach South Africa.

And Ma Junren has resurfaced in China. Remember how he used to claim that traditional tonics of turtle blood and caterpillar fungus drove his team of peasant women to shatter long-distance running world records?

His runners were axed from the Sydney Olympics because of doping concerns, but Ma will be at the World Championships as deputy head coach, which sounds like bad news for turtles.

Published: 27/07/2001