Colin Byrne's Open Diary: SUNDAY/MONDAY: I arrived a little later than I had anticipated at Troon. Instead of walking the course in the quiet of the Sunday evening before the event, I only had time to look at a few holes before it got dark.

As I approached the first green I saw someone putting on it. There were about 20 golf balls scattered around the green. As I got closer I recognised the massive frame of Nick Faldo, accompanied by his putting guru. At almost 47, four nights before the start of the 133rd British Open, the three-time champion was figuring out every possible break on the first green as the sun was setting over the isle of Arran.

No need to contemplate how this guy was so good. Or to question his worth as a starter; he still believed he could win.

As I tried to beat the early course traffic on Monday morning, I came across another past champion on the sixth green. Tom Lehman was out there on his own, no clubs, just a yardage book. He was doing what normally only we caddies would do, mapping the course and figuring out some uncharted subtleties. Do you think he was serious about competing for his second claret jug?

TUESDAY

This is undoubtedly a huge event but the show doesn't get going as early as it does at the majors over in the States. Retief wanted an early practice round so we met at 6 a.m. at the clubhouse. At the US Open there was a buzz of activity at this time, at Troon I saw plenty of rabbits and just a handfull of people. Mike Weir appeared on the first tee about 10 minutes before my man teed off for a tranquil and undisturbed round. There was no wind, no autograph hunters, just the course and us. We were finished by 9.30 a.m. having chipped and putted extensively at each green. It is the type of preparation where you feel you have actually learned something about the course. I'll let you know on Sunday.

WEDNESDAY

The Open is a bit like Christmas for golfers and golf fans in general. For those who qualified through the increasingly selective qualifying procedure it is a chance to pit themselves against the world's best. But more importantly, it is a chance for them to get their hands on equipment they would normally not have access to. The practice ground is a bit like a city high street. There are manufacturers' trucks and wagons on either side of the range. So the first thing for a qualifier to do is raid the wagons for all they've got. Everything is free and the stock must clear by Sunday. There is a well-worn trail of golfers laden with the latest drivers, clubs, putters, shoes and apparel back to the boots of their cars.

THURSDAY

I have been coming to the Open Championship for a long time. It is arguably the best event in the world in golfing terms. As far as facilities go for us porters, it has got to be the worst. In some absurd way I still love the event and I know most of my colleagues feel the same way. It takes a lot for an American caddie to go looking for his passport. But all of them dust off their travel documents for the British Open.

When they get here they do not get the red carpet treatment, rather the threadbare mat that has been lying at our Open doorstep for as long as I have been coming to it.

I parked my car on the street, just like anyone not connected to the event could do, because the parking pass was for an area seemingly on the borders of Ayrshire and remote to the golf course. Our caddie shack was a portacabin that anyone could access. There were about 10 seats and a vat of orange juice inside. This was the caddies' rest area.

We were given vouchers for food which could be purchased in the distant public catering area for each day of the tournament. With usually only a short break, this meant we could join a queue for 15 minutes and eat a pre-packed sandwich on the way back to work.

What a gesture for the human sandwich boards that we are for the R&A enveloped in our caddie bibs for five hours of play each day. On the Monday and Tuesday there was no catering open, so there was nowhere for us to eat at the golf course at all on these days.

I hear the R&A talking about all they are ploughing back into the game for juniors and their concern for ecological matters. There is a small but significant group of worldwide bag-toters who can't work out if we have been overlooked consciously or just neglected by tradition.

FRIDAY

How the weather plays such an important part on cut day. Those who played early on Thursday and then late on Friday were without doubt on the right side of the draw. It was at least a shot advantage. When we finished early in the afternoon it looked like plus five had a chance to play on the weekend. By the calm of the evening it became apparent the cut would be two shots less than that.

A refreshing attitude filled the locker-room. Some young American pros, playing in their first Open, were genuinely loving the challenge of the links and the 133rd Open Championship in general. Bo Van Pelt admitted his creative golfing juices were flowing in a way they rarely did on the majority of courses he played during the weekly slog of the American Tour.

He appreciated the traditional design of Troon, noting that the easier outward nine had the most punishing bunkers and the longer inward nine had fewer and less penalising traps. Rookie Zach Johnson was captivated by the links challenge. He was also pleasantly surprised by the courteous and appreciative nature of the Open crowd. He recognised the difference between the Troon troops and the general throng in the States. There the perceived star is all important regardless of what he is doing. At the Open he recognised that the spectators appreciated the shots and not specifically the stars.

Surely the Irish Open could lure some of these exciting young Americans to their event with its current links trend?

WEEKEND

A rare opportunity to get to watch Phil Mickelson and his head-nodding and grinning action reminiscent of one of those nodding toy dogs you used to see inside the rear windscreen of cars back in the '70s. Whatever about his demeanour he is a formidable player to watch. He had obviously adopted the use of the low, punched shot played with a club more than he would normally hit, in order to keep his ball under control. This is a huge step forward for a traditionally swashbuckling style of player.

As ever with great players - my boss included - it is not so much the great shots they hit tee to green that is so impressive, but the chips and putts they make for par most mortals would find all too daunting given the pressure they most feel under after hitting a weak shot.

Phil chipped in on the fourth for eagle, but more importantly, chipped and putted on several occasions for par when bogey seemed more realistic. He had a fair following in Ayrshire - they were tame in comparison to their States-side counterparts.

Despite Mickelson's best efforts he came up shy of the mark. My player was simply not hitting the ball well enough to seriously contend despite his superb short game. The champion golfer of the 133rd Open Championship turned out to be what the throng in the press tent refer to as an outsider. To those who know more, any top 50 golfer in the world on form can compete and conquer any of the media favourites. They are slowly and reluctantly coming to grips with this concept.

I sold Todd Hamilton what would today only be loosely referred to as yardage books, back in the '80s in Asia. They contained limited information but enough to get by in those days. Todd has done his time of global, grinding golf. After Sunday he will be revisiting some of those earlier haunts he used to frequent to make a buck for some very big guaranteed cheques when he goes on the world junket trips that are awarded major champions.

It couldn't happen to a nicer person. Having spent a successful decade in relative isolation on the Japanese tour Todd finally got his card to play his home tour in the States this year and won earlier in Florida. His caddie has been around for as long as I have. He is known as Bambi, due to the fresh-faced, startled look he had when he arrived in the caddie shack back in the '80s to do a few years of looping and travelling. Like me, he found himself to be a lifer at the end of his second decade of caddying.

Some life sentences have a happy ending.