CADDIE'S ROLE:On Sunday I just had a good feeling as we made our way down the path to the first tee

SOMETIMES YOU get a good feeling in the lockerroom before the final round of a tournament. One of the friendly attendants at the Dormy House at Gleneagles patted his bald pate as I joked with him that the wind was going to play havoc with my hair. He said he wished he had the same problem as he bid me luck for the day ahead.

I rambled down to the driving range unusually relaxed before embarking on the final round with my relatively new boss, Edoardo Molinari, who was within pouncing distance of the title. I don’t really know why I felt so relaxed, perhaps I was just having a good day.

I hoped he had been feeling the same as he wandered down the same path some 15 minutes earlier for his ritualistic half-hour session with his attentive physiotherapists. His sense of well-being, of course, was going to be more valuable on a day where so much was a stake.

I cannot remember seeing such a gaggle of journalists at a regular European Tour event. Naturally the big decision about the you-know-what Cup was going to be made at the end of the day. It was the driving force of the entire Johnnie Walker event.

From the promotional poster with Colin Montgomerie hand on chin, shirt casually open-necked underneath a blazer musing over the very tough decision he was going to have to make, to the constant mutterings from all quarters about who deserved the wild cards, it was the Johnnie Walker Ryder Cup Championship.

The media, players, caddies, tour officials and general force seemed, to me, to be behind my amiable boss. He was not in a flap about the situation. He strikes me as being a master of his destiny. He felt that captain Montgomerie was not going to pick him on his team. His only way of bullying the captain into not ignoring him as a viable component of his 12-man team was to clinch the tournament.

I have been around golf, and in particular professional golfers, for a long time now, and I have rarely heard such sense being spoken by a player who was so directly involved in this career-making decision which was largely out of his hands. What was within his jurisdiction, he very much took control of.

My initial duty with Edoardo had been in America. Two big events in the WGC-Bridgestone Invitational and US PGA under intense competition and heat provided a great insight to what made this, until the end of last year, relatively obscure golfer from northern Italy tick. Just how did he make such rapid progress into the top 20 in the world?

Having been at his side now for just three events, I understand clearly how DoDo has charged relentlessly to the top of his profession; a profound understanding of who he is and how he can make his talent work in his chosen profession.

Edoardo is a qualified engineer and therefore understands machinations. He is a well-bred, middle-class Italian who values work ethic. Such breeding has instilled a genuine sense of respect for everyone around him, no matter what their station.

Edoardo appreciates humour and that life really cannot be taken too seriously. Although he is decisive and confident, he is willing to listen to advice. He is also aware of his weaknesses and will work relentlessly to try to improve them.

One such area he recognised during our initiation period was that he was not great at the chip-and-run shot. With the way most courses are designed and set up in today’s professional game and the lack of links play that we encounter, it is no surprise the younger golfers are not adept at keeping the ball low to the ground around the greens. The lofted wedges have taken over the short game.

We worked hard at this shot last week in the short-game area of Gleneagles. Edoardo spent at least an hour every day figuring out what club to use from different flat lies around the practice green. He did so until it became instinctive to keep the ball as low to the ground as possible around the greens during play.

So when he found himself in a fluffy lie just short of the 72nd pin needing to get up and down to win the Johnnie Walker Championship and force captain Colin’s hand, he grabbed the pitching wedge immediately and chipped it stiff to capture his second title in Scotland in the space of two months.

It wasn’t by chance. These things don’t just happen. Great players make these sort of things happen.

I understood the reason for my good mood as I stepped lightly towards the driving range at Gleneagles last Sunday.

I was, of course, carrying the bag of a great player. I was in the privileged position of watching that greatness unfold from the other side of the bag.