I was there the day the old Ryder Cup died–you know, the one the United States used to win with boring regularity. After Sunday, it seems so long ago.
It was a beautiful fall day in 1987 in Dublin, Ohio, home of Jack Nicklaus’ Muirfield Village Golf Club. For the European squad to win on the course Jack built and against the team Jack captained was almost unthinkable.
Yet there they were in their bad-looking light-blue uniforms dancing on the 18th green after a 15-13 victory. It was the first time a U.S. team had lost at home.
The Ryder Cup was almost exclusively an American possession and little known to the general public. I had to beg my boss to go all the way to Ohio to cover it. The final day’s broadcast was tape-delayed on Chicago television.
The opening ceremonies featured the Ohio State marching band parading up the 18th fairway playing “Hang On Sloopy,” the official rock song of the state of Ohio. Donald Trump was nowhere to be found.
The Euros played well and took the first-day lead, sweeping the afternoon matches. They held a 10 1/2-5 1/2 lead after the second day, but maybe the singles would save the Cup.
Didn’t happen. Ben Crenshaw accidentally snapped the shaft of his famed Little Ben putter when he tried to smash an acorn. It was that kind of day.
Eamon Darcy, Crenshaw’s opponent, didn’t notice the acorn incident and thought Crenshaw was putting with his 1-iron to get more loft on his putts. Really. Ignorance was bliss and the Euros were blissful.
How did we get to the point where the American team is battling to be competitive? How can a team of 12 individuals from countries that don’t like each other much (France and anyone) or even hate each other (Ireland and Britain) be more together than 12 players from the United States? Aren’t we United?
Maybe not. Our team is made up of 12 independent Republican contractors, united only by their tax bracket. They try to beat each other’s brains in every other week of the year. With the exception of the four major championships, the money list is the most important thing to them.
The U.S. team plays on the best courses in the world for the most money. They get courtesy cars that the hoi polloi only dream of driving. This is the greatest country in the world and these guys are rightfully taking advantage of it.
Europe is nice, once you get past all the smoking and questionable hygiene. But the European PGA Tour is maybe a step above the Nationwide Tour. Maybe not. The money isn’t nearly as good as the PGA Tour’s, and the courses are not up to PGA Tour standards.
Perhaps that’s a bonding thing for the European team. Misery loves company, and while it might be a stretch to call the European players miserable, they do seem to be more together. They are also united as underdogs.
The European team doesn’t have the expectations the American team has. They have less to lose than the U.S. team. The cliche of playing not to lose fits the Americans perfectly. If we lose the Ryder Cup, our players can go back to their lives, and that’s not bad. If the Euros lose, that’s OK, because they are supposed to lose.
For me, Chris Riley personified the American team. He played well with Tiger Woods Saturday morning but was too tired to play in the afternoon. Not to pick on Riley, who seems to be a good guy, but can you imagine Luke Donald or Sergio Garcia being too tired?
Now the question is: How can we make the Ryder Cup competitive again? When the U.S. was stomping Britain and Ireland, the rest of Europe was included. How about we get Canada, Australia and New Zealand? Fiji would also be nice. It would be Old World golf against New World golf. Maybe it’s time for another change.
I’m only half-kidding.
