Open champion Darren Clarke reveals he almost quit in April

Darren Clarke thought about giving up professional golf in April after a round of 81 in Morocco but was persuaded, against his instincts, to go on holiday, regroup and come back refreshed. On balance, the new Open champion probably made the right decision.

For one thing, he is now considerably richer. Along with the £900,000 winner's cheque, he will receive a £2m bonus from one of his sponsors on Wednesday, as well as countless other benefits – appearance fees and such like – that come the way of major champions.

More importantly, by sticking with the game the Northern Irishman was sticking with the very fibre of his being. He is – as he confirmed during the course of a hungover post-victory press conference at Royal St George's – a golfer to the core. The son of a greenskeeper picked up the game as an 11-year-old, discovered an aptitude and developed a love. He turned professional in 1990, won his first European Tour event three years later and over the next 20 years fashioned a career that could be a judged a solid B+. But now this: the Champion Golfer of the Year, as the R&A designates the winner of its annual shindig.

When the prize-giving was over and the hordes had departed Royal St George's, Clarke returned to a rented house for the party of all parties.

The Claret Jug was passed around and admired as the champion mingled with family and guests and posed for photographs. Clarke's ubiquitous agent and long-time friend, Andrew Chandler, spoke of the frustrations that drove his man to the brink this year. "He was so low he thought about giving it up," he said. "It was the lowest I have ever seen him. He wasn't hitting the ball like he used to in Morocco, so I told him to take extra holiday. He went away for three weeks and came back refreshed." Two weeks after his return Clarke won a European Tour event in Mallorca.

No offence to the Iberdrola Open and those who played in it, but in the grander scheme of things Clarke's victory that week did not set the world alight. And it certainly did not portend the events at Sandwich over the weekend.

Yet it takes talent to win a golf tournament and that victory, his first in three years, suggested Clarke was not ready to go quietly into the golfing night just yet. "It happens about once every three years that I get in the right mood and play the kind of golf I am capable of playing," he explained between glasses of champagne.

This time the gap between victories was three months – a dramatic shortening of the cycle for which he gave credit to his fiancee, Alison Campbell, and to a reunion with the sports psychologist Bob Rotella, with whom he has worked sporadically over the course of his career. The pair had not met face to face for a year until the start of last week. They were inseparable for the duration.

"No, I won't," Clarke said when asked to explain what he and Rotella had spoken about. Fortunately, the psychologist was not so shy. "Darren had been getting more and more frustrated with his putting and that was affecting his whole game," Rotella said. "I told him, 'You are going to have to go unconscious'. I told him I didn't want him to think about technique. I just wanted him to look where he wanted the ball to go and hit it – like he did when he was 12 years old.

"I used to work with stammerers: 98% of them could talk when they were in their bathroom; it was just that little doubt in public which tied them up. He had the skills – he's a talented athlete; it was a question of freeing them up."

Easier said than done, of course, especially in the madness of an Open Championship setting. Luckily for Clarke, who practises regularly in bad weather at Royal Portrush, his home club, the conditions at Sandwich were appalling. This meant two-thirds of the field, those who had neither the tools nor the inclination to persevere in the squalls, could immediately be dismissed. As for the other third, including players such as Phil Mickelson and Dustin Johnson, they did not have the tools to match a man enjoying the golfing week of his life.

"I play my best when I'm fat," Clarke said a couple of times during the week, and on widescreen television screens up and down the land he cuts a less than athletic figure. But standing next to him at his celebration party he did not look fat at all. He looked solid, athletic even, with huge hands and arms that look capable of bending raw steel.

More than anything he looked fulfilled – a changed man, as he conceded. "I used to give myself airs and graces when I was younger," he said in the glow of victory. "I have to admit I was a prat. I was rude to people if I'd had a bad round, and it wasn't right. But I like to think I have learned from my mistakes."