Apparently, the golf swing is a complex, dynamic motion that requires a combination of skill, technique and co-ordination. Blimey, if I’d known that, I would never have started playing this bloomin’ game.

Somebody with a shrewd eye for the intricacies, technicalities and occasional absurdities of this action once informed me that you can learn a lot about the mechanics of it by stopping your backswing at the top and checking the position of your hands. I took this sage advice on board but the only thing I learned was that I had two hands.

As you can gather, then, the procedure by which my club strikes, scuffs, sclaffs, skitters or skulls the ball – take your pick from a rich tapestry of incompetence – possesses about as much arresting elegance as the Polynesian hermit crab embarking on the moulting process.

In this endlessly fascinating, flabbergasting game I was intrigued to hear the words of Rory McIlroy as he mulled over the various challenges posed by the Pinehurst No 2 course during a truly captivating US Open.

“It just requires a lot more thought,” he said. “Even though I hit a great drive up the eighth, I had 151 adjusted to the hole. I'm trying to land it 146. I can't land it 144 because it's not going to get up there. I can't land it 148 because it's going to go over the back of the green.”

Now there’s precision for you. For a humble golfer like myself, who tends to operate in vague vicinities rather than exact yardages, it was mind-mangling stuff. Not half as mind-mangling, of course, as poor old Rory’s disastrous denouement on Sunday.

It was hands over the eyes stuff, wasn’t it? In fact, you’re possibly reading this column through your fingers, or from behind the couch, such was the engrossingly excruciating end to an edge of the seat tussle.

Hats off to the bold, brilliant Bryson DeChambeau – more about him shortly – but how does McIlroy get over this? Well, he’ll get back in the saddle. That’s just the nature of the business but, my goodness, this was another sore one on a growing, soul-searing list of sair yins.

McIlroy’s 10-year major drought, which could just about be accompanied by a hosepipe ban from golf’s governing bodies, looked to be coming to a glorious end as he manoeuvred himself into a position of authority on a day of terrific ebb-and-flow.

During a week when he announced that his divorce was off, it seemed that there would be a personal and professional silver lining.

But an all too familiar loss of focus proved calamitous. A sloppy missed putt of two feet six inches on the 16th was, in the circumstances, inexcusable.

According to the prolific stats guru, Justin Ray, McIlroy hadn’t missed a putt inside three feet in 496 attempts this season. What a devastating time for that sequence to come shuddering to a halt.

The short one he missed on 18, meanwhile, compounded that folly. McIlroy may have tossed it away but DeChambeau, with a magnificent salvage operation from the bunker on the last, seized the moment to win it. Amid the chaotic, compelling tumult, it was an up and down for the ages.

For McIlroy, the major damage is not just leaving scars, it’s leaving great gouges. His epic collapse at the Masters in 2011 was a ghastly spectacle but this one, 13 years on and with a pile of agonising near misses accumulated in that time, could be the most painful.

Saying that, he’ll probably bounce back and win The Open next month. But we’ve been saying he’ll win another major for a decade and he hasn’t.

As each one passes by, the mental demons grow in meddling menace and the on-going quest for a major milestone becomes a burdensome millstone. It won’t get any easier.

As for DeChambeau? Well, the 30-year-old is now a double major champion and ‘brand Bryson’ is marketing itself superbly. Despite his defection to LIV, he’s one of the few rebels who seems to have  grown in popularity.

Let’s face it, DeChambeau often came across as an arrogant, relentlessly obsessive, scientific geek who said things and did things that went down like a sack of spanners.

He polarised opinion – and probably still does in some quarters – but his transformation has been quite something. In an age when certain players have about as much charisma as a dented traffic cone, DeChambeau has certainly grabbed the attention in these divided times when people have been switching off.

He’s an intrepid entertainer, he registers with a different golf audience, and he gets people talking. And that’s not a bad thing.

The relative anonymity of the LIV circuit, despite all the millions that’s lavished upon it, has probably suited DeChambeau to a tee. He has always been a bit of an outsider.

Remember a few years ago when he took himself off to a World Long Driving Championship? He looked like a man totally at ease among kindred spirits who embraced him.

In that merry band of big-hitting brothers, there was no battle for acceptance, just mutual appreciation. That’s not always been the case as far as DeChambeau is concerned.

Now a US Open champion for a second time, DeChambeau continues to capture hearts and minds. For McIlroy, meanwhile, there was only major heartache. Again.