Sometimes words fail you. So, in the absence of any pearls of flooery phrases to encapsulate a quite frantic, fascinating and flabbergasting conclusion to the 147th Open Championship, this fevered correspondent will just have to settle for this: Aaaaaargh!

This super Sunday was as chaotic as the Keystone Cops attempting the Dashing White Sergeant … on ice. But it was magical, mesmerising chaos as golf revelled in another of its greatest days.

The mighty links of Carnoustie never fails to produce excitement, intrigue and drama and this was an absolute blockbuster. At one stage of an absorbing afternoon there was the extraordinary prospect of Tiger Woods writing one of the greatest ever sporting stories … which was a good job because amid the spell-binding pandemonium the golf scribblers could barely type.

In the end, Francesco Molinari’s calm, composed elegance, under the pressure and scrutiny of partnering Woods, shown through.

While a jam-packed leaderboard ebbed, flowed, fluctuated and flummoxed with a six-way tie at one point, the 35-year-old remained as solid as the rock hard fairways.

With 13 straight regulation figures, it looked like he would do what Nick Faldo did in 1987 when the Englishman parred every hole in the final round to win at Muirfield. A decisive thrust on the closing stretch, though, gave him a two-under 69 for an eight-under aggregate and a two shot win over Rory McIlroy, Kevin Kisner, the battling Xander Schauffele and the fast-finishing Justin Rose.

Bogey-free for his last 37 holes, Molinari was a deserving champion. He also became Italy’s first. Costantino Rocca was probably punching his living room floor with delight like it was the 18th green at St Andrews in 1995.

“It’s just disbelief,” said Molinari. “For someone like me coming from Italy, not really a major golfing country, it’s been an incredible journey.”

Asked what the reaction would be in his homeland, he added with a smile: “It depends if Ferrari won the Grand Prix.” They didn’t.

The general consensus ahead of the final day was that somebody could nip round early, post a number and watch the later groups dribble back to them in the increasingly testing conditions.

Eddie Pepperell was that man with a 67 for five-under which left him hanging around the clubhouse for a good few hours as things unravelled. He couldn’t even have a hair of the dog to pass the time. “I was a little hungover today, I won’t lie,” he said in an eye-brow raising admission after a frustrating third round left him seeking solace in a bottle.

It was Woods who was raising eye-brows and hopes of a remarkable conquest as he hunted down a 15th major title. Jordan Spieth had stated on Saturday that he would love a showdown with Woods and the overnight leader got it.

Woods wasn’t just breathing down his neck. He was roaring the collar of Spieth’s shirt off. A bogey on five was jittery from Spieth and a trip into a bush on the sixth, which spawned a double-bogey, added to the anguish.

When Woods, with a front-nine performance of rousing authority, briefly held the outright lead, even Spieth couldn’t ignore the significance of the moment.

“It was an accident that I Iooked (at the board) and I was like, ‘dammit, I looked at the board dude’,” he said of an exchange with his caddie. “But my caddie said, ‘he hasn’t been in this position for 10 years’.”

Perhaps Woods got the heebie-jeebies too. His risky flop shot on the 11th didn’t reach the green and the resulting double-bogey led to so much deflation you actually felt Carnoustie had dropped a few feet from the giddy highs of a potential fairy tale. Another bogey on the 12th in a closing 71 only compounded the sense of what might have been. “I had a great opportunity,” he said.

McIlroy, meanwhile, had almost spluttered into the margins but a raking eagle putt on the 14th, which was accompanied by a joyous pirouette, propelled him back into the logjam at the top. He just couldn’t winkle out another birdie in a 69. “I hung in there but I ran out of holes at the end,” he said.

Rose, who survived the cut on the limit, rattled the flag with his second shot en route to an eagle on 14 then birdied the last for the fourth day in a row after a fine wedge to top-in distance. It was very nearly Birkdale of 20 years ago all over.

Spieth’s 76, which also featured a ticking off for pace of play, dropped him down to tied ninth while Schauffele, after a wretched early run of four dropped four shots in three holes, showed great spirit to keep it going to the 17th.

When he leaked a stroke there, though, Molinari’s Italian job was complete.