Caddie's Role: It was all about time last week. St Andrews is as far back in golfing time that you can go; they say golf was first played there in the early 1400s, writes Colin Byrne.

Look out over the rose-coloured rockery along Kingsbarns links a few miles along the coast and you could see the descending sedimentary lines of time falling towards the uncustomed azure blue of the North Sea. It's been a long time since Old Tom Morris won his first British Open Championship.

Time is what you need to play a round of golf, even a practice round in the Dunhill Links Challenge.

It is a fact you must accept before you commit to playing here, but somehow it seems appropriate that you get to spend as much time as possible on the links, the landscape that is unique to Britain and Ireland, a type of golf that can be copied but never reproduced in countries that don't have such natural coastal undulation.

With Kingbarns, a new links with a very old feel to it, it is ironic that the course was designed by an American, Kyle Phillips. Despite the fact there was a nine hole course on the very picturesque setting years ago, before nature reclaimed it, the new Kingsbarns is a modern creation with an authentic historical visage.

Given this is an event which comprises as many amateurs as pros, it is a potential turn-off for the pro-am weary professionals. But not here in the cradle of the game, Scotland. There is a real sense of being in the Mecca of golf.

You can take all your American classics, like Augusta and Pinehurst, as good as they are, but they do not, and probably never will, inspire such passion and debate as the Old Course at St Andrews. There is a meeting of class and culture here; from the local caddies to the billionaires who come to play the links land, their common denominator is their appreciation for the game and in particular this unique form of the game.

I waited for my man in the lobby of the Old Course hotel and watched stars float by the immense vase of Birds of Paradise like most of them had just stepped out of movie set: Dennis Quaid, Michael Douglas, Dennis Hopper and Samuel L Jackson all swaggered by on their way to the driving range.

I talked to John Mahoney of Dublin, who was making his annual pilgrimage to play the tournament. We were in the Jigger bar alongside the infamous 17th hole at St Andrews.

He was in awe of the challenge and condition of Carnoustie, where he had played the day we talked. He was as vehement about the Old Course and how much he found it difficult to enjoy.

I have never heard such a diversity of opinion about a golf course anywhere in the world. It never ceases to amaze me the answers I get from golfers when I inquire about their round at St Andrews.

Lee Westwood didn't think much of the course when he played it in his less mature days of the mid-1990s. A more developed appreciation was formed in recent years, hurried along by his victory of last year which signified the revival of a previously flagging career.

Personally, I have only come to appreciate the Old Course after over a decade of caddying there. It is something that modern course designers would dream of: constant conversation about their creation.

Love it or hate it, the Old Course is a masterpiece that will arguably never be emulated or bettered. If a modern designer came up with a 21st century 17th hole, they would probably never work again. Yet the 17th is a hole everyone is praying to get past with a four-and-a-half average over four rounds.

With an abundance of time to muse during the five-and-a-half to six-hour rounds. I clutched at the theory of expectation. Golf is a game frequently played with excessive expectation. "This is an easy course I should rip it up", or "this is a short course or a wide course with no rough" syndrome can lull the expectant golfer into thinking it should be easy to play well.

St Andrews is the classic example of a course that lures the unsuspecting newcomer into thinking they should conquer it in a matter of hours.

The number of innocuous looking holes with runway wide fairways and few visible hazards can be deceptive. The first and 18th, the ninth and 10th, all appear easy, all should be birdied. If they are not then the inspired golfer loses hope and gets frustrated.

St Andrews has an abundance of blind holes, so the first time you play it you rarely have an idea if you have hit a good shot or not, or indeed if you have hit it in the direction of the desired flag, this is why a knowledgeable caddie is vital. It is a course of unique intrigue with holes so simple that the modern architect would never dream of designing for fear of being ridiculed for creating a championship hole with a pitch and putt appearance.

The RAF sky show was a welcome digression from the 20 minutes required to play each hole on the Old last Friday. The main man at Leuchars air base was putting on a display of aeronautical acrobatics that seemed to bring our fourball to even more of a standstill.

Low-flying fighters breaking quickly into vertical ascent and descents, with some roll-overs in between, had the speed-freak golf pros' attention and seemed to make their very special talents look insignificant in comparison to the air gymnastics that were breaking the sound barrier of the otherwise peaceful and languid Fife air.

Despite the invasion of esteemed guests at the Dunhill Links Championship last week, the Old Course has retained its dignity and still provides a severe challenge for the world's top professional golfers. It is a tribute to the origins of golf, Mother Nature and time itself.