Monty must keep temper under wraps

Two weeks ago Colin Montgomerie sat on Centre Court at Wimbledon watching Tim Henman trying to become the first Briton to lift the men's singles title for 63 years.

No-one in the 14,000 crowd could have understood the weight of expectation on Henman's shoulders better than Montgomerie.

The European number one golfer for the past six years may not have been trying for more than half a century to win a golf Major - but at times it must feel like it.

So far he has had one near miss in the USPGA Championship - finishing on the wrong side of a play-off with Steve Elkington in 1995 - and as many as three close shaves in the US Open.

Third in 1992, he finished joint second in 1994 when he and Loren Roberts lost in a play-off to Els.

Two years ago he finished a shot behind Els and said: "This major business is getting me down."

Next week Montgomerie, inevitably saddled with the tag of "the best golfer never to win a major," tees off at the start of the 128th Open at Carnoustie - a course which has been described as stark, evil, gigantic, brutal and monstrous.

Over the years much the same has been said of Montgomerie - the man who snaps putters, slags off Americans, rollocks reporters, throws looks that kill at cameramen and blames everyone but himself for his failure to win one of golf's Major tournaments.

If Jack Nicklaus is the Golden Bear, then Montgomerie is the big, bad, grizzly bear of world golf.

Except that when you meet him Montgomerie can be much more of a cuddly teddy bear - quick to admit his craving for success has led to an obsessive pursuit of perfection.

Quick to admit he was wrong to allow spectators to goad him into gestures and outbursts he immediately regretted at last year's US Open.

Quick to admit he played in this week's Loch Lomond event - which he won in glorious fashion - out of patriotism and not for appearance money.

Quick to admit he is as desperate as ever to win The Open - but just as anxious to play down that fact that he remains the best player never to win a Major.

So calm, so analytical, so confessional - such good company.

If only he could take such virtues out on to the golf course, where a blade of grass out of place sees Monty huffing and puffing with enough force to whip up the waves on his native Firth of Clyde.

"I'm learning the hard way that nobody has played the perfect game of golf yet and I know I never will," says Monty, who has missed the cut in six out of the last nine Open Championships he has played.

"Nowadays if I miss a putt, I miss one. We're all human and I know I can possibly win a Major with 90 per cent of my game. Players have won Majors making mistakes. I can three-putt a green and win a Major. I almost have done.

"I used to get upset with myself as I knew I could do better. I just have to accept the bad with the good and I am doing as I get older."

At 36, Monty is not exactly past it but he has passed into that middle ground for a sportsman - no longer a member of the burgeoning breed of young stars such as Tiger Woods, Ernie Els, Justin Leonard, Britain's Lee Westwood and new Spanish sensation Sergio Garcia.

And not part of the elder statesmen such as Greg Norman, Nick Faldo and Seve Ballesteros - men who still strive for glory but in the knowledge that they have already achieved greatness.

Monty undoubtedly possesses the game to join the greats and he is acknowledged in many quarters as the best current player behind the incomparable Woods and world number one David Duval.

It would be one of sport's cruel travesties if Monty was to end his career Majorless.

Two years ago at his home town course Royal Troon - the first tee of which stands just 50 yards from the Montgomerie family home - Monty was weighed down with such unrealistic expectations that he visibly cracked under the strain.

He admitted knowing every patch of grass, each clump of gorse, the lie and grain of every green.

And then the straightest hitter in golf went out on the first morning and played crab-like golf, hitting just two fairways in firing a dismal 76.

He is determined to keep a lower profile back in his native Scotland this year on a course of intimidating length at more than 7,300 yards, punishing knee-high rough and which becomes almost unplayable when the wind blows.

It has been set up, according to Ian Woosnam, like a US Open course and the winner could end up over par.

In short, it is made for Monty's straight driving and consistent ball striking.

But the most important factor, as always, will be how Montgomerie manages his temper.

And part of that job is down to caddie Alistair McLean, whose six-year relationship with his fiery boss has coincided with Montgomerie's greatest achievements.

It is a partnership based on genuine friendship, rather than pure business. They both have a university background and Monty describes McLean as "probably the best friend I have."

Monty also credits McLean as the man who talked him down the 'stretch' at the Ryder Cup in 1997, when Monty's closing half-point assured Europe of outright victory.

You certainly won't find McLean bad-mouthing his boss in the manner of certain US players and spectators.

"When I first met Monty I knew he had this reputation," says McLean. "I knew he let off steam. But the strain and focus and concentration he puts himself through in order to be the best is absolutely incredible.

"There isn't a spectator and certainly not a journalist who has a clue about the toll which competing week-in, week-out at the top can take.

"You find your space with Colin, the limits to which you can go. I like him. I rate him as a guy."

Tellingly, perhaps surprisingly, many colleagues on the circuit would say the same.

There is an honesty, an openness, a refreshing lack of triteness about Montgomerie.

To use a cliche which he never would he wears his heart on his sleeve. Let's hope he also has a few tricks up it this week to win a first deserved Major.