Were there any golfers in the family before you?

My dad played off five at his best. I played a lot of rugby as a kid though. I was a scrum-half. My mum didn’t like me playing. I loved it though. Trouble was, I wasn’t big enough or fast enough. My All Black dreams were shattered, which led me to golf.

Given how up-and-down your career has been, what does it say about your swing?

My swing was never the problem. I’ve had injuries. Back in 2008 I did my left shoulder and was on painkillers for four months. I did it grabbing my bag off a conveyor belt in Hong Kong airport. So stupid, but so easy to do. I was half asleep and saw my bag passing. So I grabbed it and felt my shoulder go. It just snapped. That put me out for three months. And then my right shoulder went.

I also had a few mental issues. I’m basically shy and I’ve never liked attention. All I‘ve ever wanted to do is play golf. But fame and fortune came with that. I didn’t like it, so one way to get away from it was to play bad golf. Perfect.

I’ve thought about this for a long time. I’d play bad to get away. Then I’d miss playing well. And go through the same cycle again and again. But my swing has never been an issue. I’ve always been able to hit the ball. I hope that makes sense.

You’re not the only one to feel that way. David Duval and Fred Couples got to World No.1, took a look around and decided they wanted something else.

Winning a major was the same for me. When I climbed that mountain I was on top of the world. But there’s only one way to go from there. That’s why I really admire guys who can get there and stay there, multi-major winners. They can do it again and again.

I did look at myself differently after I won. I was so driven to win a major my whole life. And when it happened, it was like, ‘okay, what’s next?’

I remember talking to Sir Steve Redgrave at the Dunhill Links Championship. I drove him from Carnoustie to St. Andrews, which takes about 45 minutes. He is an amazing athlete, as five consecutive Olympic gold medals shows. I grew up driven to win a major championship and when I did it felt like there was nothing else for me to do. I’m not the first guy to feel that, I know. But I felt empty. I had been going along at 1,000 miles per hour. And suddenly I was at zero. That was a huge adjustment.

I was less motivated to practise and play. I wanted to enjoy the moment. So I took time off. But Steve put me right. When he was rowing he was always setting higher goals. Which is what I didn’t do in the wake of Pinehurst.

I said to him it felt like I had climbed Everest when I won the US Open. And you can’t go any higher than that. He just shook his head. “Yes you can,” he said. “You can climb it again with no oxygen.” That is such a great attitude to have. He is a very wise man.

Still, that was in 2008. And the moment had passed for me. I just wasn’t motivated enough. That came before any decline in performance. I was still the same physically. But the desire to perform wasn’t there.

Look, winning the US Open was something special for me. I fulfilled one of my dreams to win a major and it was fantastic. But when you win a major championship it changes your life. No question about that. It also changes everyone around you. The expectations are suddenly greater. I found that hard to handle, not only from my immediate family but generally. When I was on the range or on the course I could feel guys looking at me as if I was suddenly going to win every week. That was unnerving.

“The tickertape parade through Wellington was fun. I am proud of the fact I was able to influence in a positive way so many young New Zealanders.” – Michael Campbell

How did that affect you going forward?

It wasn’t that anyone said anything exactly. But I could feel it. The compliments were nice, especially from my peers. That is the ultimate really. But I still felt like they were expecting something special from me every time I teed up. It got to the stage where I felt like I was expected to hit every shot perfect, which is ridiculous.

The first month or so after Pinehurst was hard. I settled down a bit after that though. I started to feel a bit more comfortable on the course. I played decently too. I was fifth in the Open and sixth at the US PGA and won the World Match Play at Wentworth. It was running on momentum and confidence. But it wasn’t something I could maintain for too long.

I needed a break so I took one. I did all kinds of things away from the game, the biggest of which was to go back to New Zealand, which I had to do. I’m not sure any American can appreciate what a big deal my victory was for such a small country. As I said, the whole nation basically stopped to watch me during the final round. That doesn’t happen when an American wins a major, because it happens nearly every year.

So I went home for 10 days towards the end of 2005. I wanted to share my success with the country. It was a fun time, but it was an ordeal too. I was so taken aback by the amount of interest in me. I had always been relatively famous at home, but this was a whole different level. When we got to the airport in Auckland the place was packed. It was like a pop group was arriving.

The tickertape parade through Wellington was fun. I am proud of the fact I was able to influence in a positive way so many young New Zealanders. I’ve had so many of them tell me I was an inspiration to them in their golf. That’s always nice to hear. Especially as I remember so many people telling me I would never make it. There were a lot of knockers at home. My classmates weren’t the only ones laughing. Like I said, when I told them what I wanted to do I was looked upon as some kind of weirdo. But they inspired me to show them they were wrong.

But after a few days I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything I did and everything I said was in every newspaper. It was scary. I needed to escape so I went to stay with Greg Turner in Queenstown. He was great and we had a lot of fun. Until word got out that is. When my family went skiing they couldn’t move for photographers. It was insane and a little disturbing for my boys, who were only six and four at the time. I felt sorry for them. That was an impactful time for them.