Colin Byrne/Caddie's Role: Miguel Angel Jimenez emerged from the clubhouse of the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers in East Lothian exhaling a large waft of smoke from his Montecristo number four cigar last Friday evening after missing the cut in this year's British Open.

He was disappointed with his performance, upset by his putting in particular, and appalled in general with the food that was presented to him and his colleagues by the R&A.

The Spaniard's hair do would make Mrs Williams (mother of the famous tennis playing sisters) look comparatively tame. He looked like Jimmy Hendrix with a carrot hair do.

His tresses set him apart from the gin-swilling clubhouse mob, who favoured a more demure gray, conservative hair-style, accompanied by a blue blazer or rustic tweed jacket.

Miguel suggested that the food he got at Muirfield would not be given to his obviously well fed Andalucian hound at home.

As a caddie, I did not get a chance to sample the Honourable cuisine. Knowing the Spaniard's penchant for fine food, I could imagine that a bland, overcooked coronation chicken-flavoured pasta dish was not what Miguel would consider a satisfying lunch in Malaga.

Most of us caddies were wishing that we were as well treated as Jiminez's dog last week as we waited, as we did in 1992 and 1987, outside the clubhouse, exposed to the elements, for our masters to unleash us. We got the traditional mongrel treatment in 2002.

The tradition most definitely continues at Muirfield, with only some minor lengthening of a couple of par threes and the keeping of the unrelenting rules about who should go where in the esteemed clubhouse (ladies, do not not hold your breath on becoming equal members within the next couple of centuries). Everything is very much in order.

Without many course alterations, the authorities created a very level playing field for all concerned; the world's greatest golfer did not have the decided advantage that the other major courses seem to give him. There was no fairway widening at 280 yards off the tee; this was a course for all types of professionals to genuinely compete on.

Accuracy was at a premium, high and long ball flight to receptive greens was of little advantage here, which gave the likes of Pierre Fulke, who is a short hitter whose ball tends to release when it lands, an equal chance to perform well along side the power players. Both Woods and Fulke shot 65s on Sunday, using very different clubs from tee to green.

At the risk of being accused of having an informed opinion, in hindsight I did not think Tiger would win when I first walked Muirfield early last week. There was call for only three drivers to be hit in the longer hitters' round, and only the par five fifth was a definite for Tiger.

The course was protected, of course, by knee deep rough. The difficulty of the pin positions, many of which were set in close proximity to subtle slopes, was hard to appreciate on the television screen.

The set up, like at Lytham last year, was to the R&A's credit, but without doubt it negated Tiger's power game advantage. Which raises the question: when will a clever, modern course designer create the shortest, toughest course playable by all instead of the insisting on long, mind-numbing holes surrounded by uniform, verdant rough?

Saturday turned out to be exactly as Tom, the meteorologist employed by the R&A for the championship, told me it would be when I paid him a visit before the round. I could have extended my umbrella to the minute that Tom had said the deluge that was making its way from the northeast across the Firth of Forth arrived.

Having a detailed local weather report is useful to a caddie in order to get the specific wind (and rain) direction. This turned out to be strong and sideways when it came, though its imminence did not assist in dealing with it when it finally descended. It was weather for dogs.

Ernie Els held on well through the thick of it. Sergio Garcia brought in a dogged level par, Corey Pavin applied his meagre frame and robust willpower to make a terrier like appearance on the leaderboard in the worst of the weather. Even dogs should not be put out in such abysmal conditions. It was near farcical, testing the strongest of wills: most were found lacking.

Back at the clubhouse, the security guards had not got the hearts to deny us entry to the warm and inviting locker-room. If only to dry off our players' clubs and bags. One guard kindly made me a cup of coffee in sympathy as I wrung out my player's belongings. This was the compassion of the security guards, and not at the directives of the honourable gentlemen.

After surviving Saturday, the dog-fight began in earnest for the Claret Jug on Sunday afternoon. It was difficult not to side with Els, even though some hefty challenges were mounted by at least a dozen serious contenders.The most serious of all turned out to be the relatively unknown Frenchman, Thomas Levet, wearing, as if not by co-incidence, a yellow jersey. Levet is an enthusiastic cyclist who gains much of his fitness and determination from day-long tours in the saddle south of his home in suburban Paris.

Thomas' reckless policy of hitting driver on the tightest and most punitive of holes was his downfall in the final stage of his tour of Muirfield. Some may argue that the same policy got him in the play-off situation in the first place. Whatever you think, it is a measure of the quality of the finishing hole at Muirfield where the only correct club selection is one that is hit well, no matter what club is in your hand.

It was refreshing to see a challenger partake and visibly enjoy his quest for the old Jug, unlike most of his emotionless colleagues. In the end it was the more experienced major campaigner who succeeded. The old dog indeed came through on the hard road of Muirfield as Miguel Angel Jimenez enjoyed his evening tapas in southern Spain, many courses away from the insipid R&A cuisine.