The shoulders slumped and hands were thrust into pockets ahead of a slow trudge off the green, after an eight-foot birdie putt had been missed and a sixth successive par registered.

It looked as if Phil Mickelson was almost reaching the point he had spoken of before this event, at which he would shift focus from pursuing a first tournament win on British soil to out-and-out practise for the Open Championship itself.

Admittedly, since Muirfield is this week's venue, it could even be argued that he was adopting a tried-and-tested route to success, remembering the way Nick Faldo famously claimed his first Major title in 1987 by parring every hole in the final round. Mickelson's demeanour made it very clear, however, that he hoped for much more than par golf at Castle Stuart yesterday.

Yet another would follow, but a fine tee shot to eight feet at the short eighth set up a two and, as so often previously, there was no stopping him once the magic was flowing. The impact on the tournament seemed significant.

He is far too modest to say so, but Mickelson's frustration in the early stages of his round must have been exacerbated by the knowledge that he was passing up a chance to frighten the late starters with a charge up the leaderboard. Most of those heading the pack overnight had negligible experience of title contention, while the American boasts 49 tournament wins, including four Majors.

However, when his run came, he could hardly have timed it better, as three successive birdies around the turn took him to within a stroke of the lead just as the front-runners headed out, with the sounds of the crowd roaring their approval at his exploits ringing in their ears.

It was not just the scoring but how it was done that had the desired effect on the galleries. There is simply something almost McEnroe-esque about the finesse this left-hander brings to his sport.

A day earlier Andrew Coltart, working here as a broadcaster, had described a flop shot he had played at the third hole as one of the greatest he had ever witnessed. Asked about it afterwards Mickelson had, in the nicest possible way, dismissed the compliment, saying that while he accepted that others may be fearful of the consequences, the terrain made it easier for him to fling the club-head under the ball and get it to take off near-vertically, adding that he reckoned he could have pulled it off six or seven times out of 10.

Coltart's comment was no random remark from an ex-professional getting carried away with what he was seeing. The Scot made his name as an amateur with success on links courses and is well-placed to assess Mickelson's abilities for more than 20 years, having played against him in the 1991 Walker Cup and again subsequently in a Ryder Cup.

His old rival's response was, then, merely an indicator of what sets Mickelson apart in terms of self-belief and expectation. Perhaps yesterday's best evidence of his skill level was provided just as he played back towards the clubhouse at the end of the front nine, imparting such spin that the ball danced on the green before coming to a standstill some five feet away, drawing a collective gasp from the admiring onlookers.

Thereafter he eased his way through the pack, that three-birdie sequence completed when he knocked his approach to eight feet at the 10th. Similar deft pitch-and-putt combinations produced two more at the long 12th and the 16th.

Needing to pick up a shot at the par-5 last to take the outright lead at that stage, a bad break looked to have cost him when his well-struck second hit a mound in front of the green and stopped in an awkward spot forcing him, after three changes of club, to chip conservatively. Somehow, though, there was little doubt about the outcome as he stood over the 15-foot birdie putt.

Kevin Ferrie