America's hapless Ryder Cup captain decided in his wisdom to team Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson up at Oakland Hills. The result was a partnership which produced about as much chemistry as a dinner date involving George Bush and Osama Bin Laden.

It wasn't so much that they lost both their matches before Sutton tore up his game plan, it was more the withering look Woods directed at Mickelson as his shockingly wayward drive at the final hole handed a foursomes victory to Darren Clarke and Lee Westwood.

While tensions between Woods and Mickelson had been as much presumed, as chronicled in any great detail, the mutual antipathy was now public and official. In an effort to create an intimidating harmony, Sutton had unwittingly . . . and that's an appropriate word for Hal . . .

succeeded in emphasising the sharp differences between the two.

Since then, as the pair have cemented their positions as the world's best players, the schism has widened mostly because Mickelson has become a serious threat to Woods's supremacy at the major championships.

But genuine on-course rivalry? No. With Mickelson going for his third major in a row, and with Woods returning from the longest lay-off in his career to try and win for his late father, this US Open was supposed to be a defining showdown for both players.

Instead, the notion of rivalry among both spectators and the media here was a mix of anticipation and fabrication in equal measure.

The reality is that Woods and Mickelson have never butted heads in the final round of a major. Not the way Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus did, and not the way Nicklaus and Tom Watson later did. So, while a shoot-out between the two later today on one of America's most historic courses was the dream scenario, Woods's demeanour, as much as his blunted form, meant there would be no grudge battle between the game's market leaders.

As a substitute, the focus on Woods and Mickelson became golf 's own version of a beauty contest, and not that the world number one is likely to give a damn, but he was even more over par off the course than on it.

He arrived here little more than a month after his father's death knowing, and understanding, precisely what the line of questioning would be.

In fairness to Woods, he was dignified and patient during his media conference, but frankly you would have detected more emotion at an actuaries' convention.

Not that he should have manufactured any sentimental content, however, but it was an opportunity to show a more human side to his character. Instead, at the end of his deliberations, there was little or nothing to add to his personal profile. Johnny Miller, America's leading television analyst and a former major winner himself, had complained earlier in the week that Woods had never given him a "real answer" to any of his questions.

Following his bitterly disappointing opening round, a subdued Woods still had his game-face firmly on. "Everybody's looking for me to be emotional, but I'm just trying to get the ball in the hole and win this championship."

When he missed his first cut in a major as a professional, the spectators were hardly wringing their hands. They were rubber-necking, not sympathising.

But it has been an entirely different story for Mickelson.

When they manage to extricate the big cigars from their mouths, the New Yorkers who line the fairways here continue to root for the player who has become America's golfing everyman. They adopted him at the US Open at Bethpage, just a few miles up the road from Winged Foot, in 2002 when he blew an opportunity and finished second behind Woods. Even though he has transformed himself from brilliant underdog to brilliant major champion, his popularity rating has still gone through the roof.

For reasons best known to themselves, the New York galleries suspend their cynicism when Mickelson is passing through. By rights, he should be a target with his goofy, family-man grin, yet perhaps because he is the very antithesis of Woods's iron-pumping, don't-talk-tome persona, the unlikely love affair continues.

Vijay Singh, not exactly that enamoured of Woods either, once called Mickelson a "fake". Whether Singh was referring to Mickelson's onetime penchant for gambling, or some other dark secret that has yet to emerge, is anybody's guess, however, he is clearly regarded as the real thing here as his quest for a first US Open title gains momentum.

Just as his shedding of the underdog tag has failed to lessen his appeal, the fact that behind the eminently likeable facade, Mickelson's game has taken on positively Woodsian characteristics appears to have gone unnoticed. Woods may have changed his swing, but Mickelson changed his game.

Once the dedicated freewheeler who vowed he would never throttle back, his meticulous preparation for the majors as well as his measured approach on the course are reminiscent of the tactics Woods employed during his dominant years. And while Woods still favours the relative isolation of a dawn patrol the day before a big tournament, Mickelson wasn't even present at Winged Foot on Wednesday, opting instead to tune up in private at nearby Baltrusol where he won last year's USPGA championship.

This uncharacteristically Cartesian take on the game has brought the sort of rewards even his staunchest of supporters doubted would ever materialise, and if this was the first major in which he was regarded as the favourite, he has more than justified that level of expectation. "Phil is the most confident dude on earth, " said Paul Azinger.

And all this during a time in which Woods might have been able to increase his standing in the popularity stakes. While Mickelson is suddenly coming over all dedicated to his profession . . .

remember when he took some time off after the birth of his second child, Woods wondered if he was "breast feeding" - Woods has recently gone bungee jumping, driven in a stock-car race, and has also extolled the virtues of walking his new pet collie.

And then before this major truly hotted up, he was gone.

A forlorn figure, undone by poor ball-striking and indifferent putting, but betrayed most of all by grief. The player who shot two consecutive 76s was not the world number one, but a son who had lost his father.

He probably should have admitted has sadness, but he moaned about the speed of the greens which were not fast enough for his liking, and vowed to come back and win next month's British Open at Hoylake. And while there was some speculation that he would never be the same force again after Earl Woods's death, that viewpoint has to be treated with the same circumspection that he and Mickleson are part of the most intense rivalry in the game.

"I think Phil's neck-andneck with Tiger now, " said Billy Mayfair. Not true, right now Mickelson has edged past Woods and stolen his limelight. That fact alone, plus another Mickelson victory later today, could eventually spawn the sort of rivalry this era has promised.