If he hid himself away, monastically honed his game, and never said a word about his despair as well as his triumphs, there would be less of a temptation to comment on his fluctuating fortunes. But Harrington's availability, his very openness to interrogation, his honesty, have perversely made him more of a target.

Some gloomy fella in the Irish Independent concluded during the summer that it was about time Harrington stopped making excuses, and delivered. What he could have also mentioned is that when around 150 players are hell-bent on the same goal, a number of factors need to come together to make victory possible. Winning a golf tournament may seem simple . . . go round in fewer strokes than the rest of the field . . . but it never is.

Admittedly, our frustrations that he isn't breathing down Tiger Woods's neck, and that he hasn't won a major, are probably Harrington's frustrations as well. But when Irish sport examines its ledger, he owes nothing.

Compare the experience of watching Ireland's lamentable performance in Cyprus last weekend to Harrington's demise at Winged Foot in June. He had signed off with a triple-bogey seven at the last hole in the third round, and then, standing on the 16th tee in the final round, he had a share of the lead only to close with three bogeys. A total of six shots frittered away, and he finished just two behind the eventual US Open champion, Geoff Oglivy.

Steve Staunton's callow charges were guilty of not trying against Cyprus, but can anyone say the same of Harrington?

If anything, he has been guilty of trying too hard, of conducting an obsessive quest for technical excellence at the expense of the natural talent he possessed in abundance as an amateur.

He established his reputation by winning the Spanish Open in his first season as a professional in 1996, and while he realised that he could make a decent living in the comfort zone of the European Tour with the ability he had, if he was ever to make an impact on the world game, he had to change.

Abandoning most of what he was familiar with demanded courage and determination. The transformation from a pudgy, weak-driving, inconsistent player with a razor-sharp short game to the current all-round athletic model has taken the best part of 10 years and, along the way, Harrington has won a total of 16 events worldwide . . . including the recent Dunhill Links . . .

finished second 29 times and has appeared in four Ryder Cups.

Not too bad a record when you come to think of it.

As for the 29 runner-up finishes, there is a choice. Either he is a serial choker who trembles within range of the 72nd hole, or one of the world's best who has played his way into contention time and time again.

The mumbling this season that he has struggled to find an extra gear came against a backdrop of five top-10 finishes and 2.7m in prize money. Victory last Sunday ended a two-year drought in Europe, but even if a significant challenge never materialised in the final round at St Andrews, it seemed as if his foot was on the rest of the field's throat.

There was so much control, so much mastery over a demanding finish.

If the focus last season was more on how he coped with his father's death, and on how his competitive fire was temporarily extinguished, his two wins in America deserved more recognition.

It had been mentioned that he had yet to experience success on the PGA Tour, and he went out and rectified the situation. Of the current crop of leading European players, only he, Jose Maria Olazabal, Sergio Garcia, Darren Clarke and Luke Donald have won twice or more on the world's most prestigious circuit.

The doubts that are out there may emanate from the niggling fact that he remains a fingertip away from being ranked with the great players of his generation. Remove the relentless brilliance of Woods from the equation, and Phil Mickelson, Vijay Singh, Ernie Els and Retief Goosen are the outstanding candidates, with Harrington still on the outside looking in.

What separates him is the professional's badge of honour, the elusive major championship. Publicly, he has refused to get hung up on the gap in his CV but, privately, it is his prime motivation. A near-miss in the British Open at Muirfield in 2002, and that bitter disappointment at the US Open, are now barometers of what is possible.

It's not surprising that someone who was determined to qualify as an accountant before turning pro is still haunted by the fear that his game will suddenly desert him. Even if he is refreshingly unaffected by his success, he could decide to relax when his pursuit of a first Order of Merit title ends at the Volvo Masters in a fortnight's time, but instead he is booked for further tournaments in China, South Africa, the Carribean and America.

If he is driven by the prospect of more victories, more world-ranking points and more dollars, he is also likely to give increasing thought to how he balances his schedule with his preparation for the major championships.

Although his modesty, as well as his reluctance to reveal specific goals, prevent him from articulating it, he is at a stage in his career when he can literally afford to concentrate on the four majors. He won't want to be accused of arrogance by playing down the relevance of this or that event in Europe, but surely now is the time to channel his energies a little differently.

He must decide whether he plays the week before a big tournament or whether he practises, and he must figure out a schedule which gives him the best possible chance of success.

His image, which dominated so many billboards at the time of the Ryder Cup, might have been chosen because at one stage it seemed as if he was going to be the only Irish player in Europe's line-up.

However, if the team had been made up of 12 Irishmen, it's likely his would still have been the face of the Ryder Cup.

It's not that Harrington is above critical analysis, but with the exception of the World Cup, the Seve Trophy and the Ryder Cup, he represents no one but himself. He surely appreciates the emotional investment generated by this country, yet the only meaningful standard is the one he sets.

If he may frustrate, and even contradict himself now and then, how many Irish sportsmen and women are more deserving of support than Padraig Harrington as he attempts to become Europe's number-one player?

As for the major championship. It should be worth the wait.