By Frank Malley, PA Chief Sports Writer

David Duval took off his black peaked cap, plucked off those permanent wrap-around sun shades and gave the world a rare glimpse of golf's latest Open champion.

Next, he thanked God, his family and the "knowledgeable" British golf fans and drank in a reception which, it has to be said, was respectful rather than rapturous.

But then for all the flawless majesty of Duval, whose shot-making this week has been relentlessly precise, the 130th Open Championship will be remembered not for sublime golf, but for one aberration by Ian Woosnam.

Woosie may not have taken off his shoes, rolled up his socks and paddled in a greenside burn like madcap Frenchman Jean van de Velde.

He might not have missed a two-foot putt like Doug Sanders.

But he threw away the British Open just as surely and equally as foolishly.

One can only imagine the thoughts which must have scrambled his brain when caddie Miles Byrne informed him that he had played the first hole of the final round with 15 clubs in his bag rather than the requisite 14, thus incurring a two-shot penalty which sent his world into immediate turmoil.

Imagine a sprinter double faulting in the Olympic 100m final, a striker missing the crucial penalty in the World Cup final and you have some idea of the devastation Woosie must have felt as he battled to regain his composure for what could have been the most important round of his life.

As it was it was something of a minor miracle that he recovered to finish in joint third place, four shots behind Duval, though not before throwing in two bogeys in the immediate aftermath of that golfing false start.

Quite how proceedings would have turned out if Woosnam, or his caddie, had been able to count correctly to 14 will forever remain a mystery.

"Do you have a system for counting the clubs," Woosnam was later asked by an American reporter. "Yeah, we start at one and finish at 14," said a rueful Woosnam. Not, unfortunately, on this occasion.

Whatever, the red dragon of Wales was crimson with embarrassment on a day which began with one shot covering the first 13 players and around 20 others in shooting distance of the greatest prize of their lives.

It was a day of endless permutations and ever-changing possibilities.

A day when the saltire of Scotland fluttered limply as Colin Montgomerie's attempt to win his first major after leading for two rounds and being handily placed one shot back going into the final day faltered at the hands of a shaky putter.

A day which saw the brave march of Ireland's Darren Clarke come to grief in one unholy mess of a 17th hole in which he explored rough, bunker, a ricochet off the flagstick and subsequent double-bogey.

A day when these famous links rang to mortar shells of applause to acknowledge deeds both traumatic and spectacular, which witnessed the zebra trousers of Jesper Parnevik, the dashing driving of Niclas Fasth, the solid and steady progress of Miguel Jimenez.

A day when the world of Tiger Woods collided with the planet of mere mortals, the world number one visiting the sort of country his father Earl would have recognised more readily as a Green Beret veteran of the jungles of Vietnam.

A day when it seemed every one of the 196 bunkers on this devilishly difficult golf course acted as magnets for the best golfers in the world.

But ultimately a day which saw the investiture of Duval as a major force in world golf.

Make no mistake the 29-year-old Floridian, a former world number one, was coolness personified as he trod his relentless path to history.

Barely a flicker of emotion crossed his features, just one bogey scarred his card - at the notoriously difficult 198-yard par three 12th.

For the last three years or more Duval has shared the title of the "best player never to win a major" with compatriot Phil Mickelson and Britain's Montgomerie.

He is the sort of guy who could take off his trademark shades and cap and walk down Oxford Street without turning a single head. No need for Duval to travel the world's fairways with a posse of ex-SAS bodyguards, a couple of policemen and a dozen or so marshals in the manner of Tiger Woods.

But it doesn't make him any less worthy as a champion.

Indeed there is a school of thought which suggests he could prove the main obstacle between Woods equalling the 18-majors record of Jack Nicklaus.

Now his place in golfing history is assured, bringing an end to an Open Championship which was as becalmed as the Irish Sea for two days, sprang into brilliant if chaotic life on a surreal Saturday and came to its dramatic denouement with Duval lifting the old Claret Jug to the Lytham skies and then studying it intently to find his name inscribed on the silver base.

At about the same time, Woosnam was counting the price - though considering his mathematics he might have needed a bit of assistance - of the most painful aberration in Open history.

It comes to cool £218,344. Time, perhaps, for a stiff drink.