Just when Greg Norman had introduced us firmly to the concept of golf’s blast from the past, another rather more forgotten soul started chipping his way up the leaderboard.

David Duval is 36 and far closer in years to his finest form than Norman, but, infinitely more than the Australian, he has found that quality and desire can be fly-by-night deserters. The surest statistic these days falls in the money-earned column and so far this season, Duval, who was the Open champion only seven years ago, has $13,020 (about £6,500) to his name, which he earned from one cut made in 12 tournaments.

So, yesterday, he proved somewhat hard to recognise. This was partly because his wiry athletic figure has now accepted the spread of middle age with no apparent fight and partly because his golf looked a million dollars - not like those precious bucks he collected for finishing equal 60th in the Stanford St Jude Championship in Memphis early last month.

Just briefly yesterday, two birdies after the turn left him one stroke off the lead; he finished the round in a tie for fourth on two over. Far more significant, though, is that he refuses to view the past two days as a strange streak of form, a glimmer of the glory days, or a case of “stepping back in time”, which is how Norman described his own game. Far from it, Duval says that he has been waiting and waiting for this and that it is just the start of a path back to “greatness”.

On his journey from champion at Royal Lytham & St Annes in 2001, he has hit disaffection so bad that in 2004 he dropped out of the game for seven months. He discovered that the obsessed competitor of the great days was a little empty inside, he also discovered that family and then children were a priority that golf could not touch. And then, 18 months ago, he started to come full circle and attempt to put the two side by side.

At times, it has been impossible to stitch the slightly embarrassing struggler of recent years to the Iceman of the late Nineties who took on Tiger Woods and, for some time, knocked him from his world No 1 perch. That is why his comeback here may have seemed like a quirky chapter that will soon be done, while in Duval’s mind, he has merely been typing the opening sentences of the second half of his career.

He said he has been working hard “getting back together my golf swing and my head. I’ve expected to play well for some time, not exactly knowing when that might happen”. And although, he said, his psychological approach may have shifted significantly – “I don’t live it and die it like I may have then” – he insists that his ambitions have not. “I have not sought a return to be mediocre,” he said. “I know what greatness is about and I know what it takes to have greatness. I won’t settle for mediocre.” The prospect of Duval really back among the fold, really here to stay – that is something to cherish. And you could feel that among the galleries as they took notice of his reawakening.

Duval said that he appreciated the Open crowds because they showed an understanding of him and the struggles that recent years have presented. You could feel this yesterday: a bogey at 13 – was that the story over? – followed by birdie at 14 – no, no, he is fighting, he is still in the battle.

How long will the battle last? That is the fascinating story.

There is little more romantic than a comeback in sport; right now, though, we have only Duval’s word that he has one in him, that plus a couple of tough, technically disciplined rounds. Out here at Royal Birkdale, most still view him as a quirky throwback and they treasure him for it. But how they would love to see what he sees: Duval, a genuine championship contender.

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