Par of a golf hole or course is a highly subjective matter. The American singer, Willie Nelson, is credited with the quote about his own course: "Par is whatever I say it is. I've got one hole that's a par 23 and yesterday I damn near birdied the sucker."

By the same token, if the United States Golf Association want to call that brute of a 7230-yard Oakmont course a par 70 that none of the world's top players came within five shots of beating over four rounds of the US Open in near-ideal weather conditions, then that, too, is their privilege.

Most courses of that length are par 72, which Oakmont could have been if the 288-yard eighth was declared a par 4 and the 500-yard 15th a par 5.

Those simple tweaks would have made the winner, Angel Cabrera, three under par and not five over. Tiger Woods, Jim Furyk and Nick Dougherty would all have been below par as well.

Many players felt the real par was around 75. That would give Cabrera a record score of 15 under, even though his total of 285 would remain unchanged.

Despite this, and blips like Shinnecock Hills in 2004 when control was lost of the baked greens, I'm with the USGA in principle.

Par is the notional score an expert player would take without making a mistake and we are dealing here with the best in the world to whom 288 yards is a choice of club and 500 yards is a drive and a mid-to-short iron, provided, that is, they hit the fairways.

Length was the least of their problems. The fairways were just 28 yards wide and many effectively less than that because of tilt.

Bunkers were deep by American standards, if not our own, and greens were devilishly quick with run-offs and pins frequently located on the kind of difficult-to-read slopes that are rejected at Augusta National, where flat spots are favoured.

The integrity of par has taken a beating in recent years, if not decades. In bread-and-butter tournaments, par is nowhere near good enough and David Fay, executive director of the USGA, said: "All we want is for par on any of the 18 holes to mean something."

It means they expect tee shots to be straight enough to hit a target half the width of a football pitch and if you don't you are punished by playing out of rough graded according to the error.

At Oakmont, that meant gentle in the first cut, 2.75 inches in primary rough and 5 inches in secondary rough, and waist-high cabbage for the wild ones.

It means you have to hit the right part of the green or the ball will roll off - and clearly it's easier to do that from the fairway. It also means that a three-foot sidehill putt is fraught with danger because you might have a 20-footer coming back. Fear is everywhere.

A US Open course, says the USGA's published principles, "should test all forms of shot-making, mental tenacity and physical endurance under conditions of extreme pressure".

Golf might be a non-contact sport, but mentally it was like taking the sadistic pleasure from watching a boxer lose an 18-round title fight after going the distance.

This is what makes the US Open distinct and it's been that way for a long time. As far back as 1974, the former USGA president Sandy Tatum made the oft-quoted remark: "We're not trying to humiliate the world's best golfers, we're trying to identify who they are."

That is not to say the killjoy style of the USGA is the only way or even the best way. Our own Open is equally distinct. It is firmer and faster with capricious sea breezes and the added factor of the luck of the bounce which is more pronounced on links.

The US Open is, however, the USGA's show, it's their test and this is the biggest annual championship in golf's foremost nation.

The sheer relief of players like Jose Maria Olazabal at coming off the course on Saturday in a state of candid and only half-joking exasperation showed that this kind of golf is not for enjoyment. Like banging your head against a wall, it's great when you stop.

Cabrera might have been delighted at winning, but it was hardly recreational pleasure in an atmosphere in which there seemed to be a universal sense of despair.

"I was able to beat the best players here, but I wasn't able to beat the golf course. The golf course beat me," said the new champion, who nevertheless planned to take the trophy to bed with him. Enjoyable it may not have been, but the achievement was immense.

Willie Nelson may not have approved, but in the face of advancing technology and increasing standards, the integrity of par remained intact.