By Rob Bonnet BBC Sport

Is Seve for Real?

A question not about the great man's Spanish football affiliations but about his latest insistence that there's a sixth Major title in him.

That is, if only the back and shoulders would defy the wear and tear of his 45 years, the confidence would return to give him some semblance of control from the tee and the ball would start to run his way.

Maybe he also needs the rest of the field to play like 20 handicappers to his 18.

Because that - thanks to an 89 - was how far over par he finished at Fota Island in the first round of the Irish Open back in June.

Seve had a disaster at the Irish open in June

It was more than enough for any single-figure club player to reassess his role in Life, the Universe and Everything.

But for Seve - our Seve, beaming, glamorous, charismatic, super-successful Seve - surely this was proof that it was time to call it a day?

Especially since there was a humiliating twist; he'd mistakenly signed for an 87 and was disqualified anyway.

And yet there he is on the terrace of his Pedrena golf club, still smiling, sitting in front of the Sportstalk cameras.

Retirement is not in his thoughts, he insists, and he can win again some seven years since last lifting a trophy at the 1995 Spanish Open.

Sitting opposite, it was tempting to think that this defiance of logic and time was an elaborate joke.

That behind the smile, Seve was simply having a laugh at our expense.

Maybe.

But as the interview continued and he held the line against my persistent incredulity, I think I began to get the picture.

Ballesteros wins the 1979 Open at Royal Lytham

That - maybe like an 18 handicapper - he still loves the game enough to get pleasure from the two or three good shots in a round to make the ordinary and downright awful just about bearable.

And from 30 yards in, "good" doesn't do him justice. Make that still "brilliant" or "miraculous".

Last year he was the European tour's very best putter in the stats - but also its very worst driver!

Seve has nothing further to prove except his judgment in knowing when to stop.

And if he's already got that wrong, he seems to care about it even less than his failure to collect any more than small change in prize money from a game which made him a millionaire.

So maybe the problem we perceive as his is really ours?

We see embarrassment and humiliation from another missed cut, the desecration of our holy memories.

Ballesteros repeated his Open win in 1988

Sure, he feels frustration and anger, and is even taunted by his son who plays off single figures.

But unless we've been horribly duped by what was also said for at least an hour after the cameras were switched off, then he still has faith in his ability to produce the perfect round.

For him it remains a liveable dream; just a tantalising, 18-inch "gimme" away.

The nightmare, essentially, is ours.

Hospitable, warm, communicative, proud, egotistical, stubborn (as much for his refusal to attend this year's Ryder Cup as for his refusal to quit the game).

He seemed to be all these things as he talked of his plans for the remainder of the year.

He'll play twice more this season at the Madrid Open and the Volvo Masters, both tournaments on home soil.

The fantasy for him maybe - and us certainly - is that he wins at Valderrama and bows out.

But it couldn't possibly happen, could it? Get Real!