On the third day of Christmas my true love did not send mea partridge in a pear tree,but I did get an albatross ona par five.

John Daly revealed yesterday that he has been suspended for six months by the USPGA Tour for "conduct that brought unwelcome publicity", including a night in a North Carolina jail to sober up. "Is it fair that I got suspended? It's not fair in reality, but it's probably fair in perception," he said.

The only thing I've found sobering over the festive season is the news that Vijay Singh practised for four hours on Christmas Day.

This was it. This was the moment when Tiger Woods would finally confirm himself as a human being, at last prove himself to be one of us, with our vulnerabilities, our insecurities, our propensity to take premature consolation from what we had already decided was certain failure. It was 5.52pm, West Coast time, and the aura of Woods was just about to go down with that San Diego sun.

John and Dave, both dedicated hackers in their seventies, were playing in our winter league the other Sunday morning, and at a crucial stage of their foursomes match they had reached the green in good shape. All it needed was for Dave to sink a 15-yard putt or at least leave it dead.