I had grown a little tired of watching Paul Casey and friends put on a display of mediocre putting and stop-and-chats with randoms on the 14th green when I decided to take a hike (literally—Valhalla is a walking trail unto itself). As I strode toward the path that would take me across Brush Run and past the 17th fairway, the English captain blistered toward my general direction in his mini van—err, golf cart—carrying three passengers that looked like, well, commoners. He was either befriending locals or performing volunteerism before my very eyes. As his vehicle came to an abrupt halt, he smiled and looked at a kid on my left. It’s as if he was waiting on an autograph request or a “Mr. Faldo, can I get a picture?” No words exchanged, and to drop the usual Dave Matthews reference, there was plenty of time to exchange them.
It took several moments for him to realize that this 10 year-old either: (1) had no clue who he was or (2) knew who he was, but didn’t care, perhaps because he was to this 10 year-old what Neil Diamond is to me—indubitably a legend, but slightly before my time, and therefore, he doesn't matter.
Nick Faldo: the goofball in the turquoise shirt joy-riding golf patrons around the grounds.
Maybe such instances are inherent of the laid-back practice days, but they’re equally inherent of the European Ryder Cup team. These guys are wound less than an untied shoestring. It’s not uncommon to hear someone like Ian Poulter give a sarcastic “thanks, Jonathan!” shout-out to the lone fan along the rope line applauding his tee shot. It’s funny but predictable to see Sergio Garcia pick a Spanish soccer jersey out of the crowd and give it the thumbs up. This group doesn’t have a “swagger”, per se—after all, this is golf, not football—but they do act as if they’re in a groove. From tee to green and everything in-between, there’s a relaxed posture about them. They focus when they have to The Americans have no such aura. They’re the underachievers; the ones who have embarrassed themselves the last two Ryder Cups despite their perceived superior talent. Yankee skipper Paul Azinger said in the lead-up to the event that he was wary of making his team feel comfortable. The players are desperate for rowdiness from the gallery that was absent the Oakland Hills crowd four years ago. They’re handing out lapel pins and t-shirts, holding a pep rally on Louisville’s bar-saturated Fourth Street, sending a manned mission to the moon to retrieve Apollo 11’s American flag—anything to get a rise from the land of really good bourbon.
Sure, they seem excited. But they know they’re up against it without Tiger Woods in the fold.
What makes anyone think the States are better-off Tiger-less? Any talk of the chemistry problems he presents is all things stupid. Has anyone ever heard of stories describing Woods as someone who drives wedges between himself and his teammates and not a foot from the pin? He relishes being one of the guys. His very presence emanates confidence. He is the biggest asset any golf team could have. His absence doesn’t help, it hurts.
But perhaps it provides a rallying cry of sorts. Team America can now play the underdog card and not be called on it. They have six rookies. They’re certainly not a collection of nobodies, but they’re not exactly a group saturated with household names. People may have known more about Sarah Palin the mayor of Wasilla than they knew about Hunter Mahan a month ago. J.B. Holmes is a Kentucky hero—to anyone else, his name sounds like that of a cabinet official in the Jackson administration. These men are great stories, great golfers, and great characters, but they are not greats. That’s endearing to a fan. We’ll find out whether or not that’s an asset come Sunday evening.
The Europeans have the momentum coming into this thing. Paddy has won the last two majors. The team has won the last three Ryder Cups. They arguably have the four best players at present in the field: Harrington, Sergio (14-4-2 career record in the event), Henrik Stenson (winner last Sunday), and Lee Westwood (3rd at the U.S. Open and 2nd at last month’s Bridgestone). Maybe they are the favorites.
If that’s the case, then the Americans are playing for pride. And in the heart of Kentucky, the red, white, and blue will be out in full force.
Here’s to the fireworks to come.
more
