With very few exceptions, leading golfers strive towards a productive working relationship with the media, in the belief that it will be to their benefit in the long term. This may come as something of a surprise to self-appointed media critics, but the most recent convert is none other than the world number one, Tiger Woods.

Of course there are exceptions. One recalls stories of the relentless battles which Ben Hogan waged against American scribes whom he castigated for relying on information gleaned from the competing players, having spent most of the day propping up the clubhouse bar.

On a famous occasion, Hogan was heard to remark caustically: "One of these days, a deaf-mute will win a tournament and you guys will have nothing to write about." Nick Faldo was similarly cutting when, in the course of his prizegiving speech after capturing the British Open for a third time at Muirfield in 1992, he thanked the media "from the heart of my bottom."

It could be argued that Faldo's attitude was understandable, given the rough time which the British tabloids, in particular, subjected him to, especially with regard to his private life. But it was fascinating to note a marked change of attitude in recent months, when he felt, no doubt, that the dreaded press could help him in his spat with last year's Ryder Cup skipper, Mark James, over the controversial book Into the Bear Pit.

Middle-rank players seem to be as similarly indisposed as the old Faldo, which seems odd, given that they would appear to be more in need of media help than their successful brethern. In that context, I can recall playing for a golf-writers' team in the Carrolls Pro-Am at Portmarnock when our professional, a run-of-the-mill British tournament player, turned to us on the first tee and said: "OK boys. This is a practice round for me. I won't be looking for any balls." And he was as good as his word.

Sadly, enlightenment seems to come to these players when it is too late to help their career. But Richard Boxall can understand their attitude, even though he wouldn't necessarily agree with it.

Winner of the Italian Open in 1990, Boxall's career went into decline the following year when he broke a leg in a freak accident by falling off the elevated ninth tee during the British Open at Royal Birkdale.

Last February, he went into golf journalism full-time as a commentator with the British company Talk Sport, which has allowed him see the other side of the coin. "I can now appreciate that there's really nothing for the players to be afraid of," he said. "I watch them come into interview; give answers they never elaborate on and get out as quickly as possible. I liked to chat."

He went on: "The real problem for middle-rank players is that through lack of experience with the press, their over-riding fear is of having their words twisted. On the other hand, players like Tiger Woods and Jack Nicklaus before him, were dealing with the media from an early age, which gave them the confidence to field possibly loaded questions."

When Woods arrived at Firestone recently to defend the WGC/NEC Invitational in the wake of his marvellous victory in the USPGA Championship, he was unequivocal in acknowledging what he perceives to be a good working relationship with the game's writers. On being asked about the relentless media demands to which he is subjected, he said: "Sure, the media attention is pretty high, but I have got to know all of you people here, and it helps a lot."

He went on: "As the people in the media have gotten to know me and I've gotten to know them, we've learned from each other. I have learned when it is the best time to talk to you guys and you guys understand when it is the best time for me, allowing for the fact that I have to get ready for tournaments."

An immediate pay-off from that little piece of ego-massaging came in the Akron Beacon Journal the following morning. In the course of a lengthy appreciation of the world number one, columnist Terry Pluto wrote: "I like how Woods knows he's the biggest name in golf, perhaps the biggest name in all of sports, yet he doesn't think he's bigger than the game."

He went on: "I like his relentless quest for greatness. I like how Woods respects those who played before him. I like Woods, period."

It is doubtful, however, if Pluto would have written those words three years ago, at a time when the player, at 21, was a free-speaking young man, bright, wilful and cocksure of himself in his first months in the professional game. It was a time when Woods's entire attitude to the media was to undergo a seismic change because of what happened over a space of only three hours.

That, as they say in the business, was when he unwittingly got burned by the American glossy magazine Gentleman's Quarterly (GQ) in a fly-on-the-wall cover story. It is now acknowledged as probably the last unfiltered media look we will get at the real Tiger.

According to the magazine's owner, Charles P Pierce, he was accorded three hours of Woods's time only after a difficult round of discussions. "We negotiated for six months with IMG (the player's management group)," said Pierce. "He was harder to get time with than any of the movie stars we put on the cover of GQ. And with him, you get three hours. If it's three hours and one minute, you're out the door."

As a consequence, Pierce placed every minute of the three hours on the record - swear-words, sex jokes, everything. The result was a fascinating insight into young Mr Woods, warts and all, at a time when he was close to being deified as the 12-stroke winner of the 1997 US Masters.

His handlers hated it. "I think he was hurt by it," said Mark Steinberg, his manager in IMG. "Did he crawl into a shell? Of course not. He can't. But it hurt him. It heightened his awareness of trust. He realised that maybe his guard does need to be up more than the rest of us."

Pierce is unrepentant. "Basic humanity is a public-relations mistake," he said. "These guys don't want their clients walking into anything unrehearsed. It's like the memo from the (Edwin) Muskie presidential campaign of 1972 - `Under no circumstances may the candidate be allowed to think on his feet.'

"I don't think you will ever see the kind of access again that I got for the GQ piece. I don't know what the situation with Woods will become as his fame continues to increase. I suspect it will become less and less. But I think his fans are satisfied, although there's sort of a national voyeurism that may go unfulfilled."

From an American golf-writer's standpoint, the ultimate accolade these days is to he publicly acknowledged by one's first name in a jam-packed Woods interview session. And he tends to reply personally to questions from "Jeff" (Rude of Golfweek) and "Timmy" (Tim Rosaforte of Golf World), who happen to be Florida-based, as he is.

Nicklaus also does it to the older writers, such as Furman Bisher of the Atlanta Journal. And there will be the odd acknowledgement of a British writer by one of his own.

The British, incidentally, find Colin Montgomerie to be especially helpful on a lean news day, which speaks volumes for the player's generosity of spirit, given some of the hurtful things which have been written about him in the London tabloids. And one such tabloid recently referred to Darren Clarke and Lee Westwood as "tubs of lard", in a piece discussing general levels of fitness among tournament players. Generally speaking, Irish players are more co-operative than most, in that they have grown up with the writers they would know from their amateur days. Clarke tends to be somewhat defensive, however, which is probably not surprising given the foregoing tabloid comment.

Of the younger Irish players, Padraig Harrington stands apart as a communicator, largely because of the exemplary manner in which he manages his time. Whatever the demands on him or whatever his mood, he is never too busy to respond to a question. In this respect, it is interesting that the player he most reminds me of is Greg Norman, who has not done too badly out of the media. It may be that the healthy, current relationship between Woods and the golf writers is no more than an extended honeymoon. But it is working. As one American cynic suggested, however, it has yet to be seriously tested by changes in his life such as marriage, parenthood, a possible twinge in the lower back or, heaven forbid, the onset of a paunch.

In the nature of newspapers, relations with him and the other leading players can best be assessed on a daily basis.