Oh that’s right! The big old U S of A had to get down on its hands and knees and take a long smooch on Europe’s glistening bare bottom over the weekend and wasn’t it a sight to behold!
I’ve never been a huge fan of golf, let alone watching it. I’ve always viewed it as less of a sport and more of a hobby or maybe a game, and to be honest the Ryder Cup hasn’t changed my mind in this regard. However no one can deny the scream at the screen tension and excitement that this one particular event brings to the table.
Very rarely does the world get to sit back and openly cheer as the most powerful nation on earth crumbles, yet at the Medinah Country Club exactly that happened. The beauty of it all was compounded by the fact that the American’s had set themselves up for such a mighty fall. The feigned enthusiasm of Phil Mickelson, the deranged eyes of Keegan Bradley, and a Chicago crowd that only knows one song (you know what it is I don’t need to repeat it).
So where is the rant here? What grievances do I have to bear on this remarkable event? Well, I dislike the pretentious music and montages that Sky TV use to make us think we’re actually watching a World War 2 documentary when in fact we are watching over paid, would be car salesmen, hit a little ball around a field. I also reserve special mention for Colin Montgomerie. If the man had uttered the words “we must silence the crowd” in his non-existent Scottish accent one more time I would have launched my cup of tea so hard at his head that he would have felt it through the television set. Indeed the only reason he hates the Americans so much is because they never let the giant sheep lookalike win a major.
All that said, I still loved every minute of it. It was even worth watching, the cringe worthy at times, final ceremony. All the WAGs waving their flags and reminding themselves that the embarrassment will be offset with a holiday in the Bahamas, Jason Dufner’s hair, the booing of the Scottish 1st Minister as he tried to deliver a tourism advert for his country, Tiger Woods sitting, unmoved, considering which of the country club’s barmaids to make a move on. All of it was brilliant.
I of course will now go back to not giving a rat’s arse about the game, but in two years’ time I’ll be back on my sofa getting ready to take aim at Monty’s oversized head once again!