Caddie's role: Flatbush Avenue in the heart of Brooklyn, New York, is hardly where I expected to get my first taste of the 104th US Open, but I did early on the Monday morning of the US Open week.

I was starting my journey east to the WASPish Hamptons on Long Island, where Shinnecock Hills is located. I was surrounded by manic Monday commuters with their minds set in the office and far from the airy freedom of coastal Long Island.

I shunted underground with my cumbersome baggage expecting to get the runaround for the Shinnecock express. I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was there a stack of Long Island Rail Road special 2004 US Open brochures by the ticket office, but there was a regularly repeated tannoy announcement about the special service to Shinnecock Hills. Not that any of the commuters looked the slightest bit interested in such matters, but it sure made a wary foreigner, suspicious about public transport in a country that depends so much on the car for ground transport, extremely happy.

I boarded the train bound for the exotic-sounding Jamaica station, transferred to the train waiting on the opposite platform and headed off almost immediately to the even more alluring Babylon station, where I would board the train that would get me right to the golf course. They had set up a temporary station for the event, with a temporary footbridge over the track and main road and into the course. New York is the exception when it comes to public transport in the US.

Tuesday: This event is bigger than Christmas. It is, in fact, way more important than any individual - even Tiger is dwarfed by the whole set-up. The first experience of the tournament involves security. The queue for the checked baggage office is bigger than the security line. That is because you are allowed bring virtually nothing onto the course.

The police presence is enormous. It is increasingly difficult not to feel like a criminal in the States these days. Security takes precedence over everything, it seems.

I attempted to beat the rush by getting to the course before 6 a.m. I was too late, there was already a queue at the security as people filed in for an early start.

I did beat the golf traffic to the course; even Tiger doesn't play this early. But I did not beat the greens staff; they were busy manicuring long before I arrived.

There must have been an average of 10 greenkeepers per hole as I walked around the front nine, some rolling greens, others repairing plug marks. The mowers were out en-masse on the fairways. The only attention the rough was getting was a good dousing with water from two hand-held hoses on the five-metre-wide strip of verdant first cut that cut a swathe through the beige fescues and less-watered fairways.

Wednesday: Through the rich aroma of fresh coffee and doughnuts in the caddie hospitality area there was a consensus that things are slowly getting better for us porters. We had breakfast and lunch on offer every day. Snacks, fruit and drinks were available all day long - all complimentary. When we registered with the caddie master we received a bag full of hair-care and skin care products. Obviously someone had looked at us and decided that it was time to limit the damage the great outdoor life was doing to our complexions.

The real treat was the massage service, started by Dr Jeffrey Poplarski in Bethpage a couple of years ago and now standard at the US Open. There was also a chiropractor on call. The USGA even arranged lodgings for us at the Southampton University across the rail line. However Spartan, it was only a 10-minute walk to the course.

Thursday: Momentum is not the word I would use to describe the week of a Major. Players arrive way earlier than is good for them, some to deal with jet lag, others for more practice and the rest because the others are there. Many are burnt out by the time they tee it up for real. Practice rounds were taking five-and-a-half hours.

By the time we got around to playing our first round, on Thursday afternoon, it already felt like we'd been at Shinnecock for a week. It took us over three hours to get to the 10th tee. Is this the example that the USGA want to set for the average golfer for pace of play? We waited on virtually every shot on the front nine.

Then, as we got to the 10th green, the siren blew. Play suspended because of lightning. We trudged back towards the clubhouse and waited for the storm to abate.

Then we warmed up again and went out to resume our round. As we were about to restart, another storm blew up. We waited again. It was after 7 p.m. when we restarted. Now it was getting murky and foggy. We played two holes relatively quickly and moved to the 13th tee, where we had to get an official to radio the fairway beneath us to see if there was anyone on it. It was that murky. With that the siren blew to halt play for the night. We would resume at 7 a.m. Momentous.

Friday: The US Open at Bethpage was the loudest tournament I have attended, because of the proximity to New York city. Shinnecock is about an hour farther east and the noise of the spectators reflects this. There are more than enough mouthy know-alls in the crowd.

On the 12th, Retief narrowly missed a birdie attempt on the high side of the hole. There was a small group of male spectators in shorts, golf shirts exposing large midriffs, obligatory baseball caps, drinking beers. As the putt slipped by, one roared, "I told you, man, it wasn't goin' to break. That's 20 bucks you owe me. Hand it over." All this while Retief was trying to make the return putt.

It mightn't have been as bad as Bethpage, but the golfing public in the US are dragging the game down to a level of uncouthness that does not befit one of the last professional sports with a modicum of etiquette left.

Saturday: The wind made its first real visit to Shinnecock for tournament play. By the back nine there was a serious, two-club wind taking its toll on the Saturday movers.

Most of the movement on the leaderboard was in a downward direction. The greens were as quick as I have witnessed. Of course I was about to experience even harder greens sooner than I thought.

Sunday: I arrived to the course early. I wanted to have a look at some of the pin placements. I had seen most of the dots the officials put out the previous day. In disbelief, I had paced the pin on the treacherous seventh at six on and four from the left side - obviously a ludicrous pin to set.

After three triple bogeys from the first three groups the USGA decided to change the hole position. Why such stupidity from such calculating officialdom?

As I waited on the terrace to meet Retief before we went to warm up for the final round, I watched the early starters coming back in looking decidedly windswept and relieved to have survived.

I was warmed by the genuine good wishes from most of the American caddies. Billy Mayfair's man advised me it was verging on the ridiculous out there but to be extra patient and go ahead and win the Open. Despite the unruliness of many spectators the sporting nature of my American colleagues is very much intact.