Bjorn had just holed a 20-foot birdie putt, much the same length as Torrance all those years ago, to give himself and playing partner Darren Clarke the narrowest of one-hole victories against Paul Azinger and Tiger Woods in the morning fourballs.

And if anyone was still wondering quite what the Ryder Cup hype was all about then it was there for all to see in the extraordinary scenes which followed surely one of the most tense and hard-fought matches in the tournament’s history.

Bjorn and Clarke wrapped each other in a mighty bear hug, Torrance with son Daniel by his side raced on to the green to slap them on the back in celebration, the players’ wives were there to add a dash of colour and a roar of goose-bump inducing proportions rang around this most picturesque part of the midlands. Just about as good as sport gets.

It should also be added that Woods walked immediately over to his opponents to congratulate them with the most sparkling of smiles and the warmest of handshakes, even if his heart must have been as cold as the water in the nearby lake on a chill and grey autumn day. A stark statistic might well have been rippling through his mind after losing yet another epic fourball encounter. It is one which almost defies belief.

Woods, sport’s first billionaire, the greatest golfer in the world, the holder of eight Majors and the potential winner of 20 more, has now played in nine fourball matches in his career in the Ryder and Presidents Cups and his record reads won one, lost eight.

As if it couldn’t get worse he followed that up with a foursomes defeat, partnering Mark Calcavecchia, against Sergio Garcia and Lee Westwood on an afternoon when even his millions couldn’t buy the shortest of putts.

It is a catalogue of failure which is difficult to fathom – except perhaps that the one-eyed focus which Woods brings to the rest of his prodigious career appears unsuited to the team format.

Woods clearly finds it difficult to concentrate when he is not entirely responsible for every shot played out on the course. There is a Geoff Boycott-style ‘corridor of uncertainty’ in his mind.

He has made no secret of his ambivalence to this tournament – expressing a “million reasons” why he preferred to win last week’s American Express World Championship rather than cross the Atlantic with Sam Ryder’s trophy.

Indeed, with brutal honesty, he has also insisted that for him any individual tournament on the American tour comes before golf’s most prestigious team event.

It is an obsessive selfishness which looks certain to make him the most decorated golfer in history – though it will not necessarily help America retain the Ryder Cup.

But let’s not dwell solely on the uncharacteristic shortcomings of Woods after a day when deafening applause rang out all around The Belfry – because the measure of the golfing quality was in that first match in which Woods and Azinger made 10 birdies. On any other day they would have walked off the 18th with a comfortable victory. Or as Azinger put it: “Ninety-five times out of a 100 we’d have won playing like that.”

Except that on this day they were facing the ‘Tiger tamers’ – Clarke and Bjorn being two of the handful of golfers who have beaten Woods in head-to-head combat.

No wonder neither looked intimidated from the moment Azinger got the tournament under way with a nervy tee shot which brought a huge roar of ‘fore’, with just the hint of a cheer, from the huge gallery.

Woods was also in the rough and when he heard a noise on his backswing there were the first signs of the tension which was paddling beneath his normally inscrutable surface. The ball ended in a bunker, a destination the offending spectator might also have visited if Woods had his way.

“I was back on my swing, Christ!” spat Woods with a glare to the gallery – a touch of Montgomerieitis if ever we saw one.

Clarke, meanwhile, simply rolled in the birdie putt to get the European charge under way. Two more birdies from Clarke over the next two holes were answered by birdies from Woods and it was clear that here was the beginning of a heavyweight golf contest.

From then on the birdies just kept dropping – the Americans taking the lead on the eighth when Woods rolled in a 20-foot putt.

If they could have kept Europe at bay for more than just one more hole perhaps Clarke and Bjorn might have been beset by uncertainty.

As it was, after each player had been berated by cries of ‘chicken’ after predictably refusing to take on the green from the tee at the 311-yard 10th, it was Bjorn’s turn to roll in a majestic birdie putt, this time from 10 feet, to get Europe all square. They were never again to be headed, and if Clarke purred down the first nine then Bjorn finished like a train on the way home.

A four-footer from the Dane put Europe ahead once more at the 12th and a supreme approach shot from Bjorn at the 16th gave them a two-shot lead with just two to play. Enter the true Tiger as Woods fired in an approach to seven feet at the 17th, rolled in the putt and punched the air in trademark fashion for the first time as the game went to the 18th.

That hole, however, was reserved for the heroics of Bjorn who answered Azinger’s brilliant approach to two feet with that wonderful 20-foot putt, which gave rise to all that hugging, kissing and celebration.

All that was missing was a song.

’There is nothing like a Dane’.