Right at the end of the segment however, something jarred. Over that wonderful image of his son Paddy running onto the 18th green to embrace his jubilant father, the presenter adopted a child's voice and said something along the lines of: "Can I go the pub with you now Daddy, and drink a milk?"

I don't remember the exact wording but that was the gist of what this guy imagined young Paddy was saying. I know that because somebody else who saw it called me up the next day to express their disbelief. An Irishman had just won a major for the first time in 60 years and on America's version of Sky Sports, a journalist made a comment . . . equal parts bizarre and offensive . . . suggesting that since he was Irish, this golfer would be inevitably heading to the pub to celebrate the feat. Never mind that Harrington is famous for rarely drinking, there are just too many ironies here.

In that never to be forgotten play-off, Harrington defeated Sergio Garcia. For the past couple of years, Garcia has fronted a high-profile and extremely lucrative television commercial for Michelob beer. A check of the Dubliner's endorsement resume reveals no major tieins with any breweries. Now, if the Spaniard's putt on 18 hadn't lipped out, what are the chances somebody on ESPN would have mentioned sangria or drinking Michelob in their subsequent report? While we're at it, would they have worked in references to fried chicken and collard greens had Tiger Woods played better and won? We think not.

The moment Harrington lifted the claret jug we feared the hoary old cliches about the Irish might seep insidiously into much of the coverage. So it proved.

Suitably annoyed by the ESPN cameo, we went agoogling last Monday morning and this is what we found.

"Drink up: It's Paddy's Day" went the headline in Monday's San Francisco Chronicle. For the uninitiated, San Francisco might be justly described as the politically correct capital of the world.

Except, it seems, when Irish golfers are involved. At the other side of America, the responses were similarly drinkladen.

"Padraig Harrington is the British Open champion, " wrote Mark Cannizzaro in the New York Post, "and you can bet your last pint of Guinness that the Temple Bar section of Dublin . . . and every other pub around the Emerald Isle . . . is partying like it's 1947. . ."

That wasn't quite as bad as the stuff coming from another Manhattan organ.

"Sixty years after Fred Daly won the Open at Hoylake, the Emerald Isle has its long-awaited second Claret Jug, " wrote Tony Dear in the New York Sun, "and one which will no doubt need a thorough cleaning before heading to Royal Birkdale next year, in order to get rid of all the Guinness stains."

Charming.

"Irish eyes are smiling, " wrote Lorne Rubenstein in Canada's Globe and Mail, "and the Guinness is flowing because their favourite golfer survived, barely, the terrible beauty of a terrific and traumatising hole."

This wasn't just a North American phenomenon either.

How about this paragraph from Tim Glover of The Independent in London?

"Europe had their first major winner since Lawrie; Ireland their first Open champion since Fred Daly won at Hoylake in 1947, " wrote Glover in one of the most politically-correct newspapers in the English-speaking world. "Fred would not have partied as hard as Padraig and the Irish here last night.

Inevitably there was a chorus of cockles and muscles and almost certainly Harrington would not be drinking claret out of the old jug but a drop or more of Guinness."

The really annoying thing here is that Harrington embodies so many of the qualities evident in the new breed of elite Irish competitors across so many sports. Through fanatically detailed preparation and exhaustive training, he turned himself over time into one of the top10 golfers in the world. In his quest for an edge, he went to extraordinary lengths to ensure he was tapping into every ounce of his natural ability. He's not alone either.

Those few sentences might at this point in our history be reasonably applied to just about any serious Gaelic footballer, hurler or rugby player, and to a few (but pointedly not all) of the Irish soccer team. More and more successes come laced with stories of abstinence and denial instead of freighted with tall tales about beer. Yet, Harrington's moment of glory was splashed with alcohol references by international media outlets normally so fastidious about lazy stereotyping.

Why is this still the case?

Well, maybe it's our own fault. After all, Darren Clarke led the Ryder Cup team in that bacchanalian sucking down on pints of Guinness at the K Club last September. Perhaps that sort of behaviour makes outsiders think it's impossible to be Irish and to be able to enjoy victory without soaking the moment in drink. Even Harrington himself admitted he took a few sips of John Smith's ale in the aftermath of his victory. That information came in response to a question last Monday asking him what was the first drink used to fill the claret jug? When was the last time any other golfer was asked that?