Calm descends after the storm of questions

Caddie's Role: The Disney tournament was completed on time, despite the misgivings of the weather people and doomsayers that Hurricane Wilma might whip up a tempest during the final day's play.

We were going to be detained in Orlando till Tuesday of last week in order to complete the event, they said. It didn't happen. Lucas Glover holed a 30-yard bunker shot on the last hole for his maiden win on tour and we all bunkered down low and tight in anticipation of a Monday of raging wind and deluge.

I moved east of Orlando to some shelter from the storm and quite frankly it was all a bit of a let-down. The raging waves of the north wind in Hawaii produce spectacular 40-footers on the north shore of Oahu in January. The shamals, or sandstorms, that occur in Dubai in winter are gritty and quite impressive. A tropical storm I witnessed in southeast Asia sent cars floating down the streets after a half-hour deluge. Wilma, my first hurricane experience - and conveniently falling between golf events - was like an Irish snowfall: a bit squishy and anti-climactic.

I know Wilma took her toll and I am not being flippant about it, but the problem in America is that if you pay any heed to the TV you hear so much speculation about impending devastation you begin to expect Armageddon. It's a bit like hearing rave reports about a new film - you know for sure that when you get to see it, no matter how good it is, you will be disappointed.

There was a lot of rain and strong winds and it was the random tornadoes that caused most damage in Brevard county, where I was, but it whipped through in about five hours and left nothing but a load of debris and shattered power lines.

Before the power failed, which was inevitable, I was watching a TV report from the area worst affected by the hurricane in Miami. The wind was over 100 miles per hour and obviously unsafe for man as well as beast. But the intrepid reporter and his assistant were going to make a name for themselves and show just how windy it really was. The assistant was hanging on to his main man's legs as he tried to word the report over the howling of the hurricane. The report ended as both were whisked off screen by the force of the wind, the assistant attempting to give new meaning to the concept of TV anchorman.

Tampa was relatively unharmed by the weather and we were all amazed by how dry the course was on Tuesday last when we came out of our bunkers.

The Copperhead course at Innisbrook was in great condition: a golfers' course where you have to hit accurate shots and are not permitted to golf with impunity like the previous week. Par was of value again, reflected in the nine-under-par score by the popular winner, Carl Pettersson.

We set off on our afternoon first round last Thursday with a considerable group of spectators, maybe a couple of hundred in all, not bad for a first round in an event without Tiger. On one tee I had some time for idle banter with a few enthusiastic young spectators, obviously keen golfers. I gathered from our conversation young golfers are extremely technical these days - or just very good at remembering the finer detail of a professional golfer's club set-up.

One youth quizzed me politely about Retief's putter. A Yes putter, I replied. His eyes demanded I take the cover off and show him the head. He had seen loads of C-groove Yes putters but never this one.

"How old is it," he asked.

"Over four years," I replied.

"Oh, that explains it. Why is the extra lead tape on the sole and back of the putter?" he enquired.

I can't imagine the federal grand jury in Washington interrogating the maverick White House aides Libby and Rove with the intensity to which this guy was subjecting me on the back of the 13th tee at Copperhead, Tampa.

He turned his attention to the woods. Steel head or titanium? What loft? The shaft? Does he have two layers of tape under the grip? How far did he fly it off the par-five 11th? And the second-shot two-iron - how far did that go? Astonishment when I replied the two-iron went over 250 yards.

What kind of shafts has he got in the irons? What's that bit of lead tape doing on the wood shafts? It was a relief to hear Retief ask what club it was off the tee.

Where is this game going? It does seem to be getting very scientific with such curiosity among enthusiastic kids about precise technical details. It makes a welcome change from the mindless hooting and hollering from the standard frat boys, who would never ask such pertinent questions as these young guys did yet demand nothing but perfection when it comes to shot execution.

It was a day of rare inner harmony for me and my boss. There is no doubt that every day in golf is different in subtle ways, usually because of individual moods.

I knew we were on the same wavelength when I looked over at the Copperhead insignia carved around the 17th tee adjacent to the 12th and asked Retief what he thought the Copperhead stood for.

"You wont believe it," he replied, "but I was just thinking exactly the same thing. It's a snake apparently."

Who's going to argue that mind-reading isn't a major part of the caddie's job specification. That day, before he even asked me, I knew what club he wanted to hit to the next green.

It was only a matter of time before I got off this wavelength though.