British Open: Tiger Woods has at times displayed an uncanny propensity for uttering inappropriate things at inopportune moments, writes George Kimball at Sandwich.

Witness last year's impetuous observation that he had "a million reasons" why a win at Mount Juliet would be more important to him than a Ryder Cup victory.

And on the eve of the 132nd British Open Championship he did it again. Enter the Ugly American.

Given what we know of Tigermania and the British media, the surprising thing is that the story didn't acquire more legs than it did, but as one who bore witness to Tuesday's faux pas at Sandwich, I believe it's safe to say that it was never Tiger's intent to disrespect Paul Lawrie, but once the words were out of his mouth it required a contorted bit of logic to interpret his remarks any other way.

Ironically, Tiger's gaffe followed an uncharacteristically revealing bit of introspection in which he had explained his guarded stance toward the press.

"It's one of those things where no matter what you do, you're going to get ripped," he had sighed. "If you show too much, you're going to get criticised for that. If you don't show enough, you get criticised for that . . . I think I've shown more of myself of late, the last few years, than I did when I first turned pro, because obviously I wasn't comfortable at all."

The next question, while not particularly elegantly phrased, had to do with "quirky golf courses" producing quirky champions. It looked like a fastball down the middle, and Tiger couldn't resist swinging.

"I don't think so," he said. "I don't think so at all, because if that was true, then '99 in Carnoustie, one of the best golf courses in the world, if not the best golf course in the world, the most difficult. I think the winner says it all right there."

Never mind that it doesn't parse. That's what he said, verbatim. No sooner had the words escaped his lips than I saw the heads of three Scotsmen huddled together, asking one another, no doubt, "Did he just say what I think he said?"

In short order the sound bite was circulating over the BBC, and the Scots formed a posse and chased Tiger down in the car park. Of course Tiger hadn't meant to insult Lawrie, he explained; in fact he had meant to compliment him.

That the Scottish scribes decided to accept his explanation and, at Tiger's request, to downplay the episode can mean only one of two things: they are either extremely gullible or extremely polite.

Whether Tiger meant to diss Lawrie or not, the fact of the matter is that Lawrie was the world's 178th-ranked golfer on the Sunday in question, and what Woods was clearly saying was that if a Paul Lawrie could win the Open Championship on that course that day, then anybody could have. Twist it any way you like, but it's hard to see how he could have meant anything else.

But then Woods can sometimes be given to speaking elliptically, inviting us to draw our own conclusions. "My knee is fine," he tells us, but in almost the same breath allows that he wishes his legs would allow him to practice for five and six hours a day the way he'd really like.

Whether the fault is his or ours, the impression lingers that all is not well in Tigerland. For the first time since 1999, not one of golfdom's major trophies resides at his home in Isleworth, and not even last weekend's victory in Chicago has managed to dull the perception that Eldrick is in the throes of a slump.

Some slump, this one. Woods has gone to the post 11 times this year and come home a winner in four of them. If he fails to win at Sandwich this week he will have gone five straight majors without a win. But since he won the 2002 US Open at Bethpage, Tiger has earned $8,500,000.

It probably also bears noting that between his first major - the 1997 Masters - and his next, Woods played 10 majors without winning one, and we don't recall hearing the word "slump" then.

Part of the problem lies in our unrealistic expectations. When Woods won four grand slam events in a row he encouraged debate over the legitimacy of the "Tiger Slam", but concomitantly set himself up for a fall: for a while it became bigger news when Tiger didn't win a major than when he did.

By placing an avowed premium on grand slam events, and by tailoring his schedule to attack them, of course, Woods played his own part in this little psychodrama.

On the other hand, it's not just that Tiger's been losing majors, it's how he's been losing them. He began this year's Masters with a 76 and closed it out with a 75. He shot 75 in the third round of the US Open. And his 81 on Saturday in last year's Open Championship was his worst round ever.

At Tuesday's tête-à-tête with the press at Sandwich, Tiger pointed out that while the Muirfield nightmare represented his highest score in a professional event, it was not by a long shot his highest on a golf course. Moreover, he noted, "I shot 65 the next day."

Which was true enough. And that was good enough for a piece of 28th place.