Watching Padraig Harrington last weekend at the Belfry I mistakenly thought I was watching the Crafty Cockney throwing arrows at a dart board. I suddenly realised that it was the diligent Dubliner going about his clinical third round on Saturday, so close and controlled were his approach shots to the receptive greens.

It is rarely a pleasure these days to look at the pained and tortured expressions on the faces of so many contenders for tournaments: any showing of teeth is more likely to come from a wince than an attempted smile. Padraig's 64 was a pleasure, not only for the quality of golf, but more importantly for the pleasant manner with which he went about it.

Of course, it's easy to smile when you give yourself 18 birdie chances in a round, but which comes first, the good golf or the good attitude to produce the good golf? Harrington went out on Saturday knowing he was playing well but determined to enjoy the day regardless of the day's outcome: unlike one of his closest challengers Jose Marie Olazabal, who looked like a child who had just had his favourite toy broken while he was shooting his excellent 66.

Talking to Jos Vanstiphout, who helps Padraig with the mental side of his game, I naively thought that he could answer my "which comes first" question. He explained that Padraig, when he approached Jos about two months before the Ryder Cup last year, was a better than average "mental case." "He was about 65 per cent strong mentally and now he is about 85 per cent," said Jos. He also mentioned the old adage of behind every strong man there being an equally resilient woman. Jos believes that Padraig's wife Caroline is a very powerful force behind Harrington's attitude.

"You get confidence by self belief," Jos continued "and this grows with feedback from good results'. So the good golf and the good attitude are inextricably linked - I'm still none the wiser about which comes first. When I arrived at the Belfry on Sunday last to witness what most of us expected to be Harrington's victory march it really should not have come as such a surprise that he was so calm in dealing with the news of his disqualification.

It was left to Padraig to lighten the atmosphere of disbelief which hung over the Belfry, as he jokingly accused the journalists at his press conference of being dumb struck, suggesting that somebody should ask him a question. It seemed like the wicked hand of fate had dealt a very harsh blow to an in-form golfer. Attempts were made to reach some consensus as to who was to blame. Was it the recorder's fault for not checking that the signature was the correct one? Was it the Belfry's fault for looking for the scorecards before the round on Sunday? Was it Jamie Spence's fault for having a similar signature to Harrington's? Was it Michael Campbell's fault for mistakenly signing three cards?

We all wanted to lay the blame at someone else's feet apart from the obvious culprit - the golfer himself. So Harrington changed tack from plotting his way to victory around the Belfry to dispelling any doubts as to who ultimately "messed up". He blamed nobody but himself. He broke a rule and "they are there to protect everyone and we must live by the rules," he explained.

In a game where so often contenders look for the closest scapegoat, how refreshing it was to hear Padraig accept full responsibility for his mistake so soon after his golden moment had been denied him. What a rare and refreshing attitude from a top sportsman. I accompanied Dave McNeilly, Padraig's caddie, to do some banking yesterday morning before we left for Hamburg. The teller asked him what his profession was, to which he replied "golf caddie". The woman had obviously read her newspaper before work. "For whom" she demanded of the already over-interrogated McNeilly. He answered "Padraig Harrington."

"Poor sod," she sympathised. "No wonder you're in here looking for money." Dave felt that he had at least made the teller's day, and laughed heartily as he left the bank. With a wallet not so full of deutschmarks as it should have been, Dave started his journey to Germany ready for another week's work. Life goes on.