Whether the world's number one golfer picked up any tips about currying favour with the locals may become evident when he tees off at Mamaroneck next Thursday morning.

Certainly, the last two US Opens to be held in New York have offered compelling evidence that this is one region of America where Woods is respected rather than revered. Golf fans are full of admiration for his wondrous achievements but this esteem pales next to the affection they feel for Phil Mickelson (right). The New York Times recently dubbed Mickelson the city's own club pro and the most graphic illustration why came at Bethpage four summers ago. On the final day of a tournament in which Woods had so impressively mastered the elements and the course, and was the only player to finish under-par, he was reminded very starkly of where he stood in the local rankings.

The reception afforded him as he walked on to the 18th green, about to win his seventh major in the previous 11, was loud and raucous as any soon-to-be crowned champion could have expected. Except minutes before, Mickelson had strode the same path as part of the second-to-last pairing and was met with an even more thunderous cacophony of cheering.

Several decibels louder and a good deal longer an ovation, the guy destined to finish second had been afforded a far superior welcome. It had been that way all week. Even at a tournament where the fans were particularly boisterous on a public course, the galleries tracking Mickelson had been so large and partisan that Woods himself had noticed.

"I heard them a few times singing 'Happy Birthday, ' which meant he had to deal with an extra distraction, " said Woods about the Mickelson supporters.

"And I didn't have to deal with that. A lot of the fans were obviously up there with him, trying to get him to make a move, on top of that they also wanted to sing 'Happy Birthday'. That made it that much easier for me, and I just wanted to go out there and keep plugging along.

And I could hear what he was doing up there. I didn't have to look at the boards.

You knew when he made birdie, you knew when he made par."

Back in 2002, it was easy to see why New York fans might have preferred Mickelson to Woods. Apart from the fact one was utterly dominating the sport and the other was then playing in his 40th major without a victory, there was the small matter of personality. With that patented "aw shucks grin" and the suicidal tendency to go for broke at crucial junctures, Mickelson also appeared to acknowledge every comment from the crowd and endeared himself to every fan. In contrast, Woods's demeanour was so stern and unflinching throughout his march to victory that fans actually took to shouting out requests for him to smile. As his friend Jeter may have reminded him, in New York they prefer their elite athletes to mix in a dollop of charisma and a shot of swagger with their routine excellence.

"I was just hoping that the fans wouldn't cross the line with the comments they would use throughout the day, " said Woods afterwards. "And to be honest with you, yes, they did. There were fans that crossed the line, but the majority of them didn't.

There's nothing wrong with showing enthusiasm, there's nothing wrong with that at all, just as long as you're respectful to the players out there as well as the other fans that are in the galleries."

At Shinnecock Hills two summers later, it was more of the same. Even though Mickelson was coming off the back of his first major at Augusta, he surfed another tide of goodwill to finish second behind Retief Goosen. During a week in which a 76 on Sunday left him tied for 17th at 10-over, Woods further damaged his standing with New Yorkers.

Apart from relentlessly whining about the course being rendered too difficult by the weather . . . which to be fair most other players did too . . . he also refused to apologise for the thuggish behaviour of his caddy Steve Williams.

Twice, Williams got involved in incidents with over-eager photographers, professional and amateur. On the second tee of his final round, Woods nodded towards a part of the crowd when he heard a camera clicking. Williams then waded into the throng and dragged the equipment off the owner, an off-duty police officer. Woods was within his rights to complain about the impinging on his concentration but his caddy was out of order taking the law into his own hands. And the moment definitely added to the growing impression among locals that the greatest golfer of his generation wasn't exactly their sort of guy.

"Chill out Steve", shouted a fan during that encounter.

Advice Woods should perhaps bear in mind at Winged Foot.