Tiger Woods, still just 32, is a self-confessed “control freak” and, as such, likes to live in his zones. There used to be two, the stratosphere only he inhabits in golf and the earthly one to which only the favoured few are admitted. Now there is a third, the hospital, where white-coated practitioners will try and repair the body that has broken down as no opponent could ever break him down.

This week spanned all three. On Monday, he won the US Open, his 14th major title, on one leg, playing against medical advice and wincing from the pain in his damaged left knee. He needed 91 holes, not the regulation 72, before besting the gutsy challenge of Rocco Mediate, a stocky balding journeyman with a five o’clock shadow, the ultimate DC-3 to Tiger’s Concorde.