When considering his current status in the game in an interview with the Los Angeles Times earlier this month, Tiger Woods said earnestly: "I'm telling you, in 10, 15, 20 years, some kid is going to come along who blows me out of the water. He's going to be bigger, stronger, more athletic. He is going to have the talent of a Ken Griffey Jnr or Michael Jordan."

During an extraordinary summer, however, it was more than rivals could handle simply to confront the astonishing achievements of the current world number one, much less contemplate the prospect of a superior talent down the road. In a nutshell, Woods made the modern Grand Slam appear eminently achievable.

"Move over Ben," said Curtis Strange with a smile after he had retained the US Open crown at Oak Hill in 1989, so becoming the first player to win back-toback championships since the great Hogan in 1951. But another Hogan achievement, of three "majors" in the same year, presented a far greater challenge.

Yet Woods seemed to be reducing it to almost laughable proportions when he swept to a 15-stroke triumph in the US Open at Pebble Beach in June, and then won the British Open by eight strokes at St Andrews - without visiting one of those ubiquitous bunkers. It was only in his quest of the third successive major a month later that he took on a human form.

Pebble Beach had been the stuff of dreams. "Under his shirt," said Tim Moraghan of the US Golf Association, "he probably has a big `S' on his chest." And Jerry Potter of USA Today felt moved to write: "On the back nine Sunday, where the game is supposed to be won at a major championship, Tiger took his golf ball and went home."

Effectively, he blew the field away on one of the game's most difficult courses. Over 72 holes, he hit 73 per cent of the fairways compared with 69.7 per cent from the field; he hit 71 per cent of greens in regulation compared to 54.8 per cent by his rivals; he took 1.53 putts per green reached in regulation (1.61) and he drove the ball an average of 299.3 yards (268.6).

Against that background, the remarkable discipline of his British Open performance seemed to elevate him to a status of virtual invincibility, even though we kept reminding ourselves that his winning aggregate was only a stroke better than Nick Faldo's in 1990. And it seemed no more than a courtesy that he took the trouble to phone Faldo before the event to pick his brains about the impending challenge.

But Valhalla changed everything. There, among other things, Woods became the first player to beat the little-known Bob May in a play-off. And it came after one of the greatest duels in major championship history, comparable in many respects to the wonderful clash between Tom Watson and Jack Nicklaus in the British Open at Turnberry, 23 years previously.

Most significantly, Woods was seen to have been pushed harder than at any time since he turned professional in August 1996. Indeed it looked on a few occasions as if he would topple over the edge.

As with his amazing comeback against Steve Scott in the final of the 1996 US Amateur, however, he took a leaf out of Popeye's book by finding a can of spinach just before he hit the floor. It was an occasion when Woods played the last 15 holes of the championship in eight under par, including birdies at the last two holes of regulation play and the first hole of the three-hole aggregate play-off.

So, it was richly ironic that the decisive hole in quest of the title should have been executed with a scrambling par after Woods had pulled his drive on the par-five 18th into a position which would have shamed even the high-handicap members of the host club.

That was the hole where, two days earlier, the great Nicklaus had bowed out of probably his last USPGA Championship with a marvellous birdie four, as Woods's partner. And those of us who had been fortunate to see the Bear in his prime warmed to the courtesy displayed to him by a worthy successor.

Apart from matching Hogan's achievement of 1953, Woods had completed an astonishing scoring record. With an 18under-par aggregate of 270, he became the holder of the scoring record for all four major championships. And this year alone, he played 291 holes of major championship golf in 53 under par, with 12 of his rounds being in the sixties.

He also became the youngest player to win five majors, doing it faster than Nicklaus by 19 months. And he was the first player to win back-to-back USPGA Championships since Denny Shute in 1937. May, meanwhile, has become a hero to those who marvelled at his fortitude in forcing a riveting play-off before bowing eventually to the world number one. It had been the most testing experience of his career and he handled it wonderfully well. "I've never played so much golf in all my life," he remarked. "I woke up fresh Sunday morning but felt like I played golf all night."

On the following morning at Louisville Airport, I came across his parents who smiled proudly while accepting the congratulations of admirers and new-found friends. And I was happy to be one of them. "People don't know very much about him because he's such a good kid," said his father, Jerry. "There's nothing bad to write about him. But they know who he is now."

Interestingly, Jerry May has never played golf, being too busy as the owner of a service station in suburban Los Angeles. It seems that the youngster's golfing mentor was his aunt Barbara, who gave him his first clubs as a Christmas gift when he was eight years old.

Another, more celebrated Barbara had grabbed our attention at Pebble Beach two months previously, at the birth of this great, triple-triumph by Woods. It was the Friday, and a four-time winner of the title was about to miss the cut in his final US Open appearance.

Almost to order, the Bear provided us with an enduring memory. Faced with a second shot of 238 yards to the 18th, he turned back the clock and played the most glorious three-wood shot which sent the ball bounding onto the front of the green to rapturous applause from the faithful and a delighted smile from his wife.

"I cracked it pretty good," he said. "From where the screws would have been if it was made of wood." Then he added: "It was very, very nice. My eyes welled up and I couldn't even see my putt - and I topped it."

In those magical moments, little did we imagine just how memorable the summer of 2000 would become.