ANCIENT FAIRWAYS OF ST. ANDREWS PUT THE WORLD’S BEST TO THE TEST.

Jordan Spieth took a half-step into the Tiger Woods comparison question, then wisely turned around and hotfooted in the other direction.

“I think that’s something people are looking for but is not there ... it’s something I don’t think that can be compared until at least midway through a career,” golf’s Golden Child said Wednesday, at the only British Open Championship media session that rivalled Tiger’s for standing-room-only attendance.

But he’s 21 and has already won two majors. In a row.

He is 21 and going for the third leg of a calendar year Grand Slam. The only other player of this generation to get even this far is Woods, who was 26 when his challenge died in 2002 at Muirfield.

Spieth’s quest resumes this week at the Old Course, the birthplace of golf. The stage doesn’t get much bigger. So he knows the comparison is out there. He also knows it’s ‘way too soon’ to speak of it. And this is a kid who can speak.

It is there, behind a microphone, that the Tiger comparison ends.

With Woods, it has always been a surfeit of glibness and flippancy and: “What can I avoid telling you?” With Spieth, it’s real.

Woods has never been comfortable revealing his inner thoughts, perhaps for reasons that became apparent about the same time he stopped winning majors. Spieth is an open book, interesting, attentive, comfortable with who he is — preternaturally diplomatic and articulate, without being secretive or falling into clichés. Confident, like Rory McIlroy, without being cocky.

A nice kid, all in all. The anti-Tiger.

Both of them are serial killers on the course, mind you.

Wednesday, the world’s press got Spieth’s best effort, and as the multitudes filed out of the interview tent, the common feeling was: “How old is he really, 35?”

Second-guessed for not coming over earlier to learn the intricacies of the Old Course with so much at stake, all he did was honour a commitment to play in the PGA Tour event that kick-started his career, the John Deere Classic, and win it.

He virtually flew from the victory ceremony overnight to St. Andrews, forgot his suitcase, borrowed a windbreaker, bought some pants, and went to the practice range then onto the course and played a full 18 holes on the few moments of sleep he was able to snatch on the plane.

“I have fond memories from playing here a few years back, vivid memories, one of those courses you play where you don’t really forget much,” he said. “There’s only a couple of those maybe in the world. I think here and at Augusta National are my two favourite places.”

He played 10 more holes Tuesday, and was heading out for another 18 Wednesday. Not enough, of course, but who would bet against him overcoming that lack of knowledge with superior ball striking and mid-range putting?

The only problem is that his practice rounds will have been played in mostly calm, mild weather. It could get ugly here Friday and Saturday.

“I think it’s fun,” Spieth said. “If we wanted to get good weather, we’d go play in California. We come over here because we want to embrace the opportunity of handling these conditions.

“I understand that there’s a possibility for a lot of this tournament to be dependent on the draw the first two days, at least for a few strokes. It doesn’t mean you can’t make it up if you get the bad end of it.”

Much was made of his playing the Old Course on a golf simulator at home, but he laughed it off Wednesday.

“I’m in no way saying that that’s what I did to prepare for this Open,” he said. “It was fun and just because it’s so realistic, you can see the start lines where you need to hit it, but the course was a lot easier with 68 degrees and no breeze coming out of the air-conditioner. I got over here, and the real preparation started.”

Spieth knows the biggest hurdle is going to be calming himself down and not being carried away by the surroundings, the Auld Grey Toon, the storied links, the size of the stage.

A win, and he’d equal Ben Hogan’s achievement as the only man to win the year’s first three professional majors. He did that in 1953. Like Hogan, Spieth is a Texan, and that means something to him.

“Sure, I’m aware,” he said. “I like to study the history of golf, and I think it’s extremely special ... to have a chance to do what only one other person in the history of golf has done. But by the time I start on Thursday, it won’t be in my head. It’ll be about how can I bring this Open Championship down to just another event, get out there and try and get myself into contention.”

Two years ago, at 19, Spieth was the last man to qualify for the Open at Muirfield, and though he was in contention for a time as late as Saturday, he said, “I remember almost thinking like that was too big for me at the time. It was a position I’d never been in and it was an odd feeling being in contention in a major on a weekend. It was brief. I didn’t finish well that round.”

It’s not too big for him any more.

In fact, his presence might make it too big for his opponents, in the same way Tiger’s competition used to wilt when his name invariably rose to the top of the leaderboard.

Spieth’s weekly rise has almost that kind of inevitability.

“I don’t know. I don’t look like an intimidating person,” grinned this likable kid, who loves to dress in drab colours, as if to camouflage the brilliance of his golf game.

“I don’t hit the ball the furthest, which I think is one of the reasons Tiger intimidated people. But we find a way to get it in the hole.”