It was a predominantly older crowd congregated around the 10th tee on a morning usually reserved for the deconstruction crew. The US Tour, without the difficult travel logistics which make Monday finishes difficult in Europe, has got the comfort of a Monday option.

The mood was positively serene at the Stadium Course, befitting the mature crowd. The many hospitality tents looked uninviting compared to their hospitable weekend welcome. The drink-induced whooping and hollering of Sunday afternoon was missing. This bunch were relying on their morning coffees for animation instead of afternoon cocktails.

Vijay Singh got a token "Go get 'em" from the otherwise docile group as he cracked his drive off the 10th. Tiger arrived moments later for the resumption of his final round to the polite applause a symphony conductor might receive as he took the podium. It fell short of Tiger's usual welcome. His jowls protruded in his familiar look of intense concentration.

The crowd was still five deep along the gallery ropes despite the tournament being in overtime. Tiger hit his approach to the 10th. "Get on it," shrieked a spectator, followed by a shrill whistle of approval as Woods' ball landed inches from the pin.

I had underestimated the drinking hour in Florida. The whistler was sucking on a can of beer at 10.10 a.m. His reserves rattled gently on a complicated porter device on his belt. The "snow birds" (senior citizens from the north who winter in Florida) shuffled over to the 11th fairway. The more agile spectators bussled down to see Tiger convert his first birdie of the day, a tap in.

At the 11th, a throaty growl came from the mob behind the green as Woods' long birdie attempt slid past the hole. On Sunday this would have been greeted with a boisterous howl. What a difference a day makes.

I realised that you do not need the sophisticated electronic scoreboards for up-to-date information on Tiger's progress. His every move hissed through the crowd like electricity. Jean Van de Velde's caddie, Andy Prodger, was following Colin Montgomerie's group on Saturday with Monty's wife, Eimear. As they stood beside the second green a spectator whizzed by them babbling about Woods' possible double bogey coming up on the first hole. The scoreboard recorded the information well after the bush telegraph did.

"Tiger nuked it," a Nikeswooshed spectator informed the large gathering at the back of the 17th green as he followed his hero's progress off the 16th tee through his binoculars. The information may not always be accurate: he had indeed given it an almighty whack, but it came to rest in the left rough.

The 17th hole, with its natural amphitheatre, was filling up to capacity by 11.30 for the final scenes of drama in the final act of the Players Championship.

"Come on down, c'mon down that hill - whoa, whoa baby! Yeah Vijay!" hollered an enthusiast at 17 as Singh's teeshot edged closer to the pin and finally came to rest four feet from it. The snow birds were out numbered by the hooters and hollerers around the 17th. Another observed that the big Fijian "had hands like bear paws, real thick and soft" as he converted his approach to a birdie.

It was mostly locals who witnessed Woods continue his climb out of his "slump' at Ponte Vedra in extra-time yesterday. The more vocal spectators we have come to expect at tournaments these days had long since headed up North and back into winter. What a civilised spring scene they left for Tiger to hoist his first Players trophy at Sawgrass.