Rick Smith, who once worked with Phil Mickelson, claimed he would rather be penniless before he violated a code of ethics so brazenly. But the craggy-faced Haney simply shrugs. “I felt that these were my memories, too,” he says. “They weren’t just Tiger’s.” Forthright and utterly unapologetic, Haney says that he was bound by nothing so sacrosanct as the Hippocratic oath. “That’s completely different,” he argues. “I’m a coach, and I’m not the first coach who has written a book. “Tiger Woods didn’t have an exclusive on memories, so I wanted to share them. It’s an insight into Tiger that most people wouldn’t be able to enjoy. \"When you’re around greatness, like I was for six years, you’re asked about it and you want to talk about it. That’s what I have done.” The label of ‘greatness’ is suitably deferential, but Haney’s memoir also documents the arrogance, immaturity and quite astonishing hubris of the most scrutinised athlete on Earth. Thus are we treated to a torrent of indiscretion, presenting such tales out of school as the one where Woods, sharing a room with Zach Johnson as the 2006 Ryder Cup, realised that his companion was a devout Christian and yet still paid for a 24-hour porn channel on the television. Or Haney’s admission that, despite staying at Woods’s Florida home for up to 30 days a year, his employer never once thought to offer him a popsicle from the fridge. Haney seems faintly embarrassed when he hears these revelations played back to him, but says: “I could be in his company for 110 days a year, so I had a pretty good glimpse of his personality. \"But I don’t think anybody totally knows him, because he is very closed off. The book gives you plenty of ideas about the complexities of Tiger.” Complex is right. How could it be otherwise, given Haney’s acknowledgement that in all his family dinners with Woods and former wife Elin Nordegren, he could never once strike up a conversation about anything but golf. So would he define Woods, ultimately, as cold and distant? “Yeah. I never observed it and thought, ‘Wow, this is really a bad thing.’ I concluded, ‘This is part of why he’s so great.’” The starkest illustration of this thoughtless, cold-fish nature comes in Haney’s recollection of the 2006 Open at Hoylake, where Woods lifted his third Claret Jug. Haney handed over a yardage book and championship programme to his student, hoping for him to write a heartfelt message of appreciation, only to find that they had been signed merely, ‘Tiger Woods\'. “It was just typical of how he was. His reaction to my disappointment would have been something like, ‘Well, you didn’t ask me to put anything on it\'.” Woods, it transpires, could also be viciously dismissive of other players. The golfer given the hardest rap in the book is Ian Poulter, who incurred Woods’s rage when, after a US Open practice round at Oakmont in 2007, he turned up, apparently uninvited, for a journey on the private jet. Woods, who sat in the front with his headphones on, then texted Haney: “Can you believe this d--- mooched a ride on my plane?” Suggesting that there had always been some froideur between the pair, Haney explains: “Ian’s a little loud as a player. He dresses quite loud, and he had said those remarks to a magazine that soon it was only going to be Tiger and him. But I happen to like Ian. I thought it was a funny story.” While vast tracts within the book are devoted to fine-grained swing analysis, Haney also makes the extraordinary accusation that Woods would carry injuries like an “athletic badge of honour”. At one point, Woods is depicted disclosing his latest niggle to agent Mark Steinberg and caddie Steve Williams, who simply roll their eyes in resignation. “I definitely sensed that,” Haney says. “He had a lot of little things wrong, and it seemed like there was always something.” The comment assumes added salience in light of Woods’s dramatic exit from this month’s Cadillac Championship, where he withdrew with a mild Achilles strain. His rationale in playing up his injuries, Haney asserts, is that he wants to be bracketed with athlete friends such as the New York Yankees’ Derek Jeter, or basketball star Shaquille O’Neal, shattering the perception of golf as a sport for “out-of-shape white guys”. “Sometimes when he spoke of injuries, he would talk using terms from other sports, like ‘reps’. Those are indications that he wanted to be an athlete.” Haney cannot fail to see the stunning exhibition last weekend at Bay Hill, where Woods eclipsed the rest of the field by five shots, as ominous. “He was No1 in greens in regulation, as he was for most of the years I taught him. That has always been the cornerstone of his game. I think he has got his golf back on track.” Even so, he adds a note of defensiveness, lest too much praise be directed at Sean Foley, the Canadian who replaced him as Woods’ mentor. “Will he ever win 45 per cent of his tournaments over a three-year period, like he did with me? That’s going to be a tough thing to do.” In his recollections, Haney expresses doubt that Woods could overhaul Jack Nicklaus’ mark of 18 major titles, branding him an ‘old 36’. But events in Orlando have prompted him to revise his view. “I wouldn’t put anything beyond Tiger. But I think he needs to win a major this year. If he does, then the odds definitely swing in his favour.” Haney takes pride in his book, maintaining that it is “open and honest”, but a certain sadness is detectable. By his tell-all, he has shredded any semblance of a relationship with the most gifted golfer of the age. He cannot disguise his hurt that, since informing Woods that he was resigning almost two years ago, there has been no communication. “I haven’t heard from Tiger since I quit in May 2010. I saw him at JP McManus’s tournament for a couple of minutes, but other than that I haven’t heard from him one time. \"For me it was important that we remained good friends. And I never heard from him again.”