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!
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