It's not often that a golf writer finds himself as the subject of a father-and-son exchange like: "Come and say hello to a man who helped me win the British Open." But John Whitbread, long-time scribe with the Surrey Herald, had that enriching experience at St Andrews last July.

As it happened, he had in his possession at the time a photograph he had treasured for years. Since 1979, in fact, when he was snapped taking notes while Bill Rogers was driving to success in the World Matchplay Championship at Wentworth. Naturally, the photo took on a rather special relevance in the light of events at Royal St George's two years later.

Whitworth takes up the story: "On the morning of the first round of the Open, I was out and about looking for some early news when I happened to see Bill Rogers on the putting green. And when I went over to chat with him, it suddenly struck me that something was wrong.

"Looking at my time sheet, I saw that Bill was due off at 8.28a.m. and it was now 8.27. 'You should be on the first tee,' I said to him. But he replied: 'No, I'm due off at 8.48.' So I showed him the time-sheet and he immediately rushed to the first tee where he was just in time to avoid a two-shot penalty. And, of course, he went on to win the Open."

Though there didn't seem to be any problems at Southern Hills last weekend, Seve Ballesteros could certainly have used a similar reminder when he challenged for the US Open at Baltusrol in 1980. As it happened, the Spaniard was attempting to become the first Continental European to win back-to-back major championships, given his success in the US Masters in April of that year.

A notoriously superstitious player, Ballesteros later claimed that he had had a dark premonition about his first visit to Baltusrol. As he put it: "In the airplane, I remember saying to myself, 'Seve, you should not be be going to the US Open. Something bad is going to happen'."

In view of what was to happen to him, there was also bitter irony in the nature of a pre-championship assignment which his manager, Ed Barner, had arranged for him 20 miles away in New York City, on the eve of the event. On being asked to attend a cocktail party by one of his biggest sponsors, the Rolex watch company, Ballesteros flatly refused, because of its proximity to the big event.

There are conflicting versions of events on the critical June morning which, incidentally, happened to be Friday the 13th. After a disappointing opening round of 75 in the company of Mark O'Meara and defending champion Hale Irwin, the Spaniard languished in 85th position and, clearly, had much ground to make up if he was to claim a place among the top-60 qualifiers.

The popular version is that having been due off the first tee with the same partners at 9.45am, Ballesteros, who was in a hotel in the town of Summit about 10 minutes from the course, was not picked up by a courtesy car until 9.25. Even then, he thought he would get there on time.

But he hadn't bargained for traffic congestion around the course and by the time he got to the first tee, Irwin and O'Meara had already hit their approach shots to the green. When a penalty of disqualification was imposed, Ballesteros angrily vowed never again to play in the US.

He later recanted the threat, explaining: "When you're hot, you don't know what you're saying. I'll play in the US Open again. It is my fault. I am stupid."

A rather different view, however, is recounted by the Spaniard's biographer, Dudley Doust, in the book "Seve: The Young Champion." He wrote: "At 9.25 that morning, Ballesteros set out for the club with his brother (Baldomero, who was caddying for him). Their tournament chauffeur, a lady club member, later recalled that the brothers were chatting and joking the whole way and made no comments about the heavy traffic that clogged the streets.

"As Ballesteros climbed from his car in the car park at the course, a British journalist shouted that he was due on the tee. The Spaniard sprinted to the locker room, hurriedly pulled on his spikes, and rushed to the first tee: it was too late _ by seven minutes. Irwin and O'Meara were moving towards the green. Ballesteros protested.

"The starter, John Laupheimer, a respected USGA official, had no choice but to disqualify him under Rule 37-5 of the Rules of Golf. It reads: 'Time and order of starting. The player shall start at the time and in the order arranged by the committee. Penalty for breach of Rule 37-5: disqualification'."

Though there is effectively no provision for leniency under this rule, the USGA were willing to permit a player to start with a two-stroke penalty if his partners had not yet played their second shots. The position of Irwin and O'Meara, however, left even this loophole closed to Ballesteros. And there were no extenuating circumstances.

Doust went on: "The Spaniard exploded in fury. The penalty, he said, was too severe. He blamed the traffic; players should have their route cleared to the course." ... Back in his hotel bedroom, "he refused to open the door to newsmen. Inside, with myself and (Joe) Collet, his fury was too intense, too continuous to have been assumed. If he had wilfully missed his starting time, the act had to be subconscious."

That evening, Ballesteros flew back to Madrid, economy class, as he had done on the outward journey. All the while, he showed no interest in the US Open and wasn't aware of the result until three days after it was over. And he got little sympathy from the champion, Jack Nicklaus, who said: "I usually try to get out here an hour beforehand."

In her book "Seve", Lauren St John recounts a different version of events through Collet, who was assistant to Barner at that time. She quotes Collet as saying "He (Seve) has such a good memory that sometimes he thinks he's the only one that remembers it in the way that it was."

Collet then goes on to suggest that because Ballesteros wasn't yet fluent in English, he (Collet) had always made a point at the start of a tournament of searching out the draw, taking it to his client and checking that he knew his tee-times. So it was that on the Wednesday at Baltusrol, he had said to Ballesteros: "Do you know what time you are playing on Thursday and Friday?", just as he had done when the Spaniard had triumphed in the British Open at Royal Lytham the previous year.

St John wrote: "After Ballesteros had reeled off the times confidently, Collet had not given the matter another thought. But on Friday morning, when he was walking through the hotel lobby on his way to get a courtesy car, he caught sight of Ballesteros wandering aimlessly out of the dining room.

"'Seve!,' cried Collet in amazement. 'You're off in a few minutes. What are you doing here?' Ballesteros was taken aback. 'Oh no,' he said. 'I don't go off for another hour.' 'You go off right now,' Collet said in a chilling tone."

But the matter didn't rest there. According to St John, there were suggestions in the US that Ballesteros had deliberately missed the starting time so as to save face after an opening 75 had left him 12 strokes adrift of first-round leaders Nicklaus and Tom Weiskopf.

Such suggestions, however, conflict with the devastating effect the incident clearly had on the player, even through to the following year. Doust recalled an incident in October 1981 when the Spaniard's gallows humour came to the fore. Tapping a massive, golden Rolex Oyster day-date watch on his wrist, Ballesteros remarked with a wicked smile: "Nice watch, eh? I must always wear it. It tells me the time I must tee off."

At St Andrews last year, John Whitbread brought the old photograph along, hoping Bill Rogers would sign it. "Not alone did he do so," said Whitbread, "but he remembered me and introduced me to his son.

Now I have a special keep-sake of that chance meeting at Royal St George's 19 years ago, for which both of us are grateful."

All of which prompts the conclusion that for all our alleged faults, had a similarly attentive scribe been looking after the interests of Ballesteros at Baltusrol, one of the most dramatic happenings in the history of the US Open, might never have occurred.