Golf: Singh Would Never Win the Popular Vote

It takes a strange kind of genius to turn a glorious golfing career into a never-ending narrative about an athlete tortured by his past and constantly at odds with the media but Vijay Singh, who will begin his defence of the US PGA title at Baltusrol today, might be such a man.

Magnificent with a golf club in his hand - three major championships, 28 PGA tour wins and upwards of $50 million (£27,87m) in prize money world-wide - the Fijian has developed a reputation down the years as curmudgeon with a microphone in his face, and yesterday the world No2 golfer (he would not accept the official designation, naturally) turned in a performance that was vintage even by his misanthropic standards.

"I don't know what I need to do to win you guys [journalists]," he said when asked about his relations with the media. "I'm not going to beg. I am not the guy to get down on my knees and say, hey, write good things about me. I'm a player, an athlete, I go out there and play golf tournaments and I speak my mind. I'm very honest. I am not a fake like many of the guys out there."

Singh did not identify those of his PGA colleagues who might be fake, but there will no shortage of guesses when today's sport pages are published. Singh has already had one famous falling out this season, with Phil Mickelson, at the Masters - a dispute over the spike marks caused by the American's golf shoes which ended with the two men facing up to each other in Augusta's locker room. Nor is his relationship with Tiger Woods much more than cordial, as he himself all but conceded.

"We don't go to dinner together, but I don't go to dinner with 99% of the guys out here, so why single Tiger out? I have never even had a drink with Phil Mickelson. Why doesn't anyone talk about that? Or Retief [Goosen] for that matter."

For the record, Singh is, by and large, as popular on the driving ranges of the professional golf circuit (his colleagues describe him as fun, approachable and, above all, helpful when he comes to handing out swing advice) as he is unpopular in the press tent.

There is a school of thought which suggests he has no need to court the media but the evidence is that the constant battles with journalists have had a corrosive effect on his public image in the US, and hence on his relationship with the American golfing public. When he steps on to the first tee with John Daly at 1.30pm local time today, there is no doubt who will receive the loudest cheer - a bias that cannot be entirely attributed to patriotism and Daly's everyman persona.

It was a similar story two weeks ago, when Singh was paired with Woods in the third round of the Buick Open. While the Fijian was greeted with polite applause, Woods was cheered to the tree tops. That day, Singh silenced the galleries, shooting a fantastic 63 to beat his rival by seven shots - an unalloyed triumph by any standard, yet it was met in the US with disappointment that Woods had failed to mount any kind of challenge rather than celebration at how well the Fijian had played in such a pressure-filled moment.

This week's tournament seems destined to take a similar shape, with the two best players slugging it out - they must over a 7,392-yard golf course - for the final major title of the year. Woods, by virtue of his record in the majors this year, must be judged a slight favourite, but Singh has a great chance too, especially if he putts well. Should that happen, and the Fijian wins the fourth major of his career, then expect the response from the galleries to be muted.

Singh insists he is unaffected by such slights, but a closer reading of his words yesterday might suggest his true feelings. "I have done what I need to do," he said when asked if he felt under-appreciated. "I have to worry about what I feel and not what other people feel. If you look back and see where I have come from ... I feel great about my game, myself and what I have done."

He has every right to feel proud. From the humblest of golfing origins, a municipal golf course in Fiji, Singh has worked himself into one of the giants of the modern game, via a circuitous route which includes a two-year ban from the game for cheating (a charge he continues to deny), a spell working as teaching professional in Borneo, a brief stint as bouncer at an Edinburgh nightclub and the most regimented practice regime this side of the Royal Marines. It is, by any standards, a terrific tale, a heart-warming one even, but one that Singh himself seems reluctant to tell.