By Frank Malley, PA Chief Sports Writer

Tiger Woods was 36,000 feet above the Atlantic and that was the best place for him as far as golf was concerned on Sunday afternoon.

If ever there was proof that the sport could live quite happily without Woods' wondrous deeds and endless procession to major glory then it was on the fairways of Muirfield as the 131st Open championship reached a denouement dripping with drama and tingling with trauma.

With Woods already having departed by private jet for the sunshine of Florida after a six under par 65 which said much for his character following the carnage of his storm-induced 81 on Saturday the stage was left for the unpredictability and emotion so often strangled at birth by the sheer dominance of the greatest golfer of all-time.

What unbelievable emotion we experienced. What amazing unpredictability we witnessed.

And how appropriate that at precisely 7.48pm, at the end of an extraordinary four-way play-off which turned into a sudden death duel between Els and Frenchman Thomas Levet of almost unbearable tension there was the 'Big Easy' himself throwing his hat in the air, being half-lifted in the air by his French opponent and then hugging wife Liezl on the 18th green before finally embracing that famous Old Claret Jug.

'Big Easy' - you've got to be kidding. This was the most difficult day of Els' fabulous career in which already he has won two US Opens by some considerable distance.

Els, the man who has finished second to Woods in majors so often he should wear number two on his back.

Els, the South African with a swing as smooth as vintage Cape wine and a personality to match and who chose to wear the power red which Woods reserves for his final round swordthrusts.

But who, if the truth be told, swapped the psychological straitjacket of Woods for shackles of his own making as he conspired almost to throw away the most prestigious prize in golf when seemingly on the cusp of glory.

Els might not have paddled in a greenside burn with the reckless abandon of Jean Van de Velde at Carnoustie in 1999 but at seven under par and leading the Open comfortably by one he pulled a routine tee shot at the par three 16th into a hollow at the side of the green.

One ham-fisted chip later saw him further away than he was and still not on the green. Another heavy-handed chip saw him race 12 feet past the hole and when he finally left the green he had conjured a double bogey from seemingly nowhere.

He fought back to birdie the 17th to take his place in the play-off comprising Levet and Australians Stuart Appleby and Steve Elkington.

A play-off which saw 50-foot putts holed, tee shots pushed desperately into waist-high rough and impossible bunker shots made to look routine.

It is such drama which is the lifeblood of any sport and if Els looked drained then it was because he had given everything and more in the cause of victory.

But it was that sort of day at Muirfield - an afternoon when the figures went up and down the scoreboard like shares on the world's stock markets.

Indeed, seven players in all led the tournament during those final two hours. From Elkington, the sweet swinging Australian who had beaten Els and Colin Montgomerie in the 1995 USPGA to Scott Hoch, Levet, Appleby and Japan's Shigeki Maruyama.

The mischievous smile of Maruyama, a man who outscored playing partner Woods on the first two days and who is capable of inspirational birdie surges, is one of this tournament's most enduring images.

And amid all the coming and goings spare a special thought for England's Gary Evans whose mind, a shade before 3pm, was swimming with thoughts of glory as he stood on the 17th fairway, six under par leading the Open by two shots.

Never having won a single tournament in his career the 33-year-old hoiked a wood into the heavy rough where a five-minute search for the ball by 200 or so spectators, led by Laura Davies working for Five Live radio, revealed three balls but unfortunately not that of Evans.

Back he tramped to smash another wood to the back of the green and proceeded to hole a 60-foot putt for par whereupon the emotion surge around Muirfield was enough to rival nearby Torness power station.

The adrenalin was pumping - high-fives with his caddie and playing partner Scott Verplank, a fist-pumping shriek of 'C'mon', a leer into the television camera and a touching message mouthed into the lens: "That was for you mum".

If that was for mum then the 18th was for every golfer who has ever hacked his way up a final fairway with knees trembling and head scrambled with simmering emotion.

A tee shot into the right rough was followed by a joke with the gallery before a second shot which landed high up in the huge main stand. "It went in here, further up here," the crowd urged trying to pinch Evans a yard or two in his attempt to salvage the Open lead.

The referee would have none of it, Evans pushing his third shot almost into the greenside bunker before chipping seven feet past the hole and then sinking the putt for a bogey, a round of 65 and still at that stage a dream of holding the Old Claret Jug before the day was out.

Great prizes invariably require great nerve, however, as much as great talent. And that was the buzzword of this Sunday - nerve. No, there was not the excellence of Woods who so often has intimidated his opponents down the stretch.

But there was heart and guts and sheer will to win - and no-one could deny Els was not the worthiest of winners. Certainly not the thousands who stayed on to cheer him rapturously at the presentation ceremony.

So an Open which saw Woods brought to his knees by Mother Nature, Colin Montgomerie confirmed as the grumpiest man in golf and Muirfield revealed as the world's most challenging links course came to a fabulous close.

And, do you know, as the gongs were being handed out, we didn't miss the Tiger one little bit.