Day One

It’s about a 25-minute drive from the official media hotel to the Atlanta Athletic Club and despite the lashing rain today’s journey passed without incident.

I say that, because the last media shuttle I road in America, crashed!

Thankfully, it wasn’t a 25-vehicle pile-up with bodies being dragged from the wreckage. In fact it was a rather pathetic 20mph crash into a lamp post.

The three passengers who, erm, cheated death were my good self, a Japanese reporter and none other than former Open runner-up Mark McCumber, who was keen to point out to me just where the driver had gone wrong. Thanks Mark.

“I was in a car crash with Mark McCumber” sounds rather like a Half Man Half Biscuit song so if the Mersey-based indie-popsters are looking for new material I have further details at hand.

Ironically, if you laugh at “bloody women drivers” jokes, the person at the wheel who couldn’t steer was male. The drivers of the shuttles all week had been ladies. Perhaps they borrowed the idea from Carry On Cabby where Hattie Jacques set up an all-women rival taxi firm that blew the men away.

Despite the crash, at least the Americans seem to have a better organised system for transporting the media to and from the course than the Brits.

At Lytham, the media shuttle team consisted of just one man – a rather scary-looking Scottish gentleman! He started his shift at 5.30am and was still ploughing a lonely furrow at 9.30pm.

He actually looked on the verge of a breakdown before the tournament began and nearly bit our heads off when we asked him to make one last journey just as he was about to set off home. To his credit, he made the trip one last time although during the stony silence of that 10-minute journey it did cross our minds that he might leave the road and drive us into the sea, shouting “Goodnight world, it’s time to go to sleep.”

Come Saturday, to our amazement, his mood had lifted and he drove us back to the car park with traditional Scottish country music blaring out of his crackly speakers. To some it seemed rather pleasant, but if you’ve ever watched “The Wicker Man” you might have viewed it as rather sinister. To our relief he didn’t drive us to a remote Scottish island and set fire to us.

Day Two

One of the differences between internet and print journalists revealed itself today.

About three hours ago all the British press went off to play golf. Their nightleads had been filed and now it was time to play.

With no such deadlines I’m still in the press tent and about to file some quotes from Jeff Maggert.

Not that I ‘m complaining for a minute. I’m now free to channel flick the TV next to me and there’s a programme featuring Arnold from Different Strokes. Honest!

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I travelled to America with former Sporting Life employee Simon Yau and his brother. ‘Yauser’ and big bruv are here as spectators and we had agreed to meet up a couple of times during the week.

After forgetting to swap hotel numbers our plan looked doomed and it’s now taken another turn for the worse. I’ve just checked the noticeboard and found a message saying “Meet Simon by the practice putting green at 10am”. Oh dear, that was nine hours ago.

It didn’t help that the message was addressed to R Hindle of ESPN. What was Yauser thinking of?

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I’ve just sat opposite Mark McCumber in the media dining tent. Those who read the diary earlier in the week will know that the former Open runner-up and I were involved in a media shuttle bus crash at the US Open earlier this year.

I felt like I should recall our not very life-threatening experience with him but he was tucking into a ham and tomato sandwich and it didn’t seem the right time. Glad to see he’s put it behind him and is getting on with his life.

Day Three

I rode back to my hotel last night in a stretch limousine!

No, I haven’t gone Charlie big-time after rubbing shoulders with the likes of Tiger Woods and David Duval. The reason for my flash exit was a broken down media shuttle.

Why they opted to lay on a limousine - complete with dark tinted windows and 20ft long mini-bar - rather than a school mini-bus is not for me to question.

The scene got even more bizarre when a photographer insisted I pose for him whilst climbing into the back seat.

I happily posed for a couple of snaps and wondered whether it would be worth my while purchasing a copy of Hello magazine in a couple of weeks.

As I had put on my wraparound sunglasses for the snaps, I imagined a caption underneath asking “Whose this cool cat?”.

In the end it emerged that the photographer was a somewhat eccentric freelancer called Alex.

He was keeping a written and visual diary for his own personal website (still under construction) and thought this was a good photo opportunity.

He too rode the limousine home and regaled myself and two bemused American journalists with a serious of outrageous tales of life on the road as a golf fanatic.

I won’t tell you them here but when he does get his website up and running I will let you know.

Day Four

The press pack have been offered the chance to switch hotels from the Four Points Sheraton to the Hyatt Regency.

Officially it’s because the Hyatt is nearer to the course but unofficially it’s because there have been a string of complaints about conditions at the Sheraton.

Objections I’ve heard so far include: “the showers don’t work”, “it smells” and, best of all, “(Telegraph correspondent) Martin Johnson’s toilet keeps flushing in the night.”

Maybe I’ve got lucky, but I find it quite posh.

Perhaps that’s because my accommodation for the Open at Lytham was a Bed and Breakfast in Blackpool.

The Carlee hotel, owned by Roger and Jean (“the people who care”) cost £20 a night, including greasy breakfast. Roger even looked out for Sportinglife.com colleague Grant Williams and I on a night to make sure we returned safely. Bless him.

In the hallway there were posters of forthcoming attractions on the pier front, my favourite an extravaganza featuring Keith Harris and Orville, Billy Pearce and Alvin Stardust. Unfortunately because of work commitments we couldn’t attend.

The latest rumour is that they’re demolishing the Sheraton as soon as the tournament finishes. So maybe there are problems.

Perhaps Roger and Jean should set up a US version of the Carlee hotel in its place.

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There was a nice exchange between Phil Mickelson and shock leader Shingo Katayama today.

Asked what he knew about the Japanese golfer, Mickelson replied he was aware that Katayama wore “funky hats”.

Fifteen minutes later in his own press conference, Katayama was asked what he knew about Mickelson.

After a lengthy chat with his interpreter, the response came back, “he’s left-handed.”

Katayama also revealed that he plays up to the crowd’s ignorance of him.

His trick is to warm-up by hitting shots left-handed. People in the gallery, unaware who he is, wonder how on earth he got in the tournament hitting in so short and wide. He then switches hands, crushes a drive and the galleries are suitably wowed.

Day Five

A tip given to me by Sportinglife.com security guard Geoff seems to be paying off in Atlanta this week.

Our burly enforcer lived in America for 20 years and has vast experience of US golf courses.

He once actually led a tournament after 54 holes but "spent a romantic evening" with a red Indian woman the night before his final round which left him physically shattered for his closing 18.

His advice was to make sure I drenched myself in insect spray. The area, he warned me, was crawling with bugs at this time of year and I had to be particularly careful they didn’t bite me in the nether regions.

If they did it could cause severe swelling…. not necessarily a bad thing thinking about it.

Anyway, I found a product called, quite simply, “Off” and so far it does exactly what it says on the tin. I’m completely bite free.

Thankyou Geoff.

Day Six

Having made Phil Mickelson my 20/1 headline selection to win the USPGA at the start of the week and invested a fair amount of cash on the left-handed “sure-thing”, I have a slight, no make that massive, feeling of deflation as I sign off for the last time from Atlanta.

I guess he’s feeling a little bit worse than me though after losing his battle with David Toms so I’m not going to feel too sorry for myself.

Ironically, the first shot I saw this week was Toms hitting his five-wood into the water on the 18th in a practice round.

When he pulled that club again on the last hole on Sunday, I thought my prayers had been answered.

Toms would repeat his error and it would make a great story for me to tell at dinner parties… “and the thing is, I actually saw Toms do that in practice,” I would tell my engrossed audience.

Not that I go to dinner parties and I guess if I did I wouldn’t talk about golf but you get the point.

In the end, of course, he put the five-wood back in his bag, laid up, made his par and ruined everything.

Still, at least one David T is happy tonight.