One for every one of Patrick Horganās years.
Letās do it for Hoggie.
1997
Letās share our memorable Ryder Cup moments, whether celebratory or devastating, to whet the appetite for Friday.
I was born in September (Ryder Cup month) 1981 but I donāt remember 1987 in Muirfield Village.
My first Ryder Cup recollection is Christy OāConnorās tantalising 2 iron onto the 18th in The Belfry in 1989.
That started my (stop start) love affair with the inter-continental prize fight.
Langerās putt sliding by in Kiawah Island in 1991 was heartbreaking amidst the Desert Storm Gulf War propaganda on the US side. But I loved watching Seve & Ollie strutting their stuff.
I didnāt follow the 1993 renewal but I was seriously invested in 1995 in Oak Hills. I tracked the team rankings all summer (the Irish Indo would print the Ryder Cup points list every Monday in that part of the sport section where theyād list all the weekend results across multiple sports).
I recall Philip Walton grimly clinging onto a spot in the lineup for the last few weeks of events where points could be earned - I think his head was gone & his game had too what with the stress of it all. My relief when he secured his spot on the team was palpable. Corey Pavin & some other yank fuck won what seemed like an absolutely crucial point late on the Saturday night in the fourballs/foursomes. I think Faldo was on the wrong end of it. There was a clip of Pavin (following his greenside tv interview) marching through the practice putting green area arm in arm with his wife, like the high school prom king & queen, on his way to the clubhouse with a huge cheesy grin, fist pumping & taking the acclaim of the home crowd. Faldo had already decamped to the putting green & didnāt blink or acknowledge Pavin - he was getting ready for the Sunday singles. Faldo wasnāt firing on all cylinders at the time but his comeback win against Curtis Strange was epic - 1 down on the 17th tee to win 1 up. I think his wedge on the last (his third shot after pitching out of the long rough) was one of THEEEE greatest Ryder Cup moments - it allowed him to make his par & put the complete shits up Strange who failed to get up & down from the green side bunker. Iāll never forget his emotional embrace with Seve on the green afterwards - two European titans, whoād won multiple majors, bawling crying at the impact of it all. And then our Philip delivered the coup de grace, as they say in France.
My goodness - Iām only on 1995 & I have to pause because thereās a lump in my throat & another one in my pants.
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Do you think Europe winning the Ryder Cup in the second half of the 1980s was what brought down the Berlin Wall and apartheid in South Africa?
It seemed to be very much of a piece with world events of the time.
When the Yanks regained the trophy in 1991 this perhaps signalled the re-starting of the era of darkness. It definitely caused the war in Yugoslavia anyway.
The European Ryder Cup heroes of 1985 (which I donāt remember but saw some footage of in advance of the 1989 tournament) and 1989 (which I do remember) seemed to me to be a bit like the heroes of Live Aid.
Where Live Aid had Howard Jones, the European Ryder Cup team had Howard Clark. Where Live Aid had Paul Young, Europe had Paul Way. Where Live Aid had Nik Kershaw, Europe had Nick Faldo. And of course like Live Aid, the centrepiece was an Irishman.
I thought of all these people as interchangeable. I imagined Nik Kershaw hitting a 5 iron to two feet at the 15th at the Belfry to go 2 up on Craig Stadler and leading the knowledgable crowd of yuppies in a rendition of āWouldnāt It Be Good?ā as he marched to the green. And then European captain Paul McCartney (interchangeable with Tony Jacklin, who was interchangeable with Shakinā Stevens and Des OāConnor) goading Stadler by singing I Am The Walrus at him.
I imagined Howard Clark sitting at a piano at Wembley and Howard Jones hitting a lag putt to remain 7 down after 8 holes to Tom Kite.
I imagined Seve and Olly performing like Wham at Live Aid, with Seve in the George Michael role and Olly as Andrew Ridgeley, and indeed Olly had already proved himself just as capable a dancer. One thing Seve always taught us about the European Ryder Cup cause was that you gotta have Faith. He was, and even in death remains, our Father Figure.
Sam Torrance as Billy Connolly. The great entertainer who held the crowd in the palm of his hand as he told the jokes, the biggest joke of all being his broomhandle putter.
Mark James as Status Quo. Lumpen English pub rock. But solid fare. Solid as a rock. Later on in 1999 when James was captain, he would only succeed in dragging his team down down, deeper and down.
The Americans were like those famous American artists who at best unenthusiastically did the Philadelphia Live Aid concert and put in shit performances and didnāt get into the spirit of things, or worse didnāt bother to play at all.
Was Sandy Lyle actually Jim Kerr from Simple Minds shouting āDonāt You Forget About Me?ā after his horrific form lapse in 1989, which coincided with Simple Mindsā poorly received 1989 album Street Fighting Years? Both losing ground after their respective 1985 peaks.
But Tony Jacklin did forget Sandy Lyle, and so has the entire European Ryder Cup cause.
I imagined Christy OāConnor Junior shouting āgive me the money Prime Minister, people are focking doying.ā Alright, I didnāt imagine that last one, and I didnāt imagine most of the other ones either, apart from just now writing this. Obviously.
But otherwise the similarities are eerie.
Next: the eerie similarities between European Ryder Cup teams and the Allied team in Escape To Victory.
Donāt go to the bother
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Tommy Fleetwood would have been class in Escape To Victory.
That 2018 victory in Paris, Iāll remember the cries of āVictoire, Victoire, Victoire!!!ā as long as I live.
Would they not just pick the HĆJGAARD twins?
New York in September.
Time for some direct hits on America.
Jon Rahm has Saudi money behind him.
After the 2016 All-Ireland football final replay I spent about three hours in the big bar room in the Juryās Croke Park hotel half watching the Saturday evening proceedings of the Ryder Cup at Hazeltine in Minnesota on a big screen. I wasnāt overly bothered and went on frequent walkabouts on my own to talk to random match attendees but my co-drinker was keen to see it.
This brings to mind that this Sunday presents a unique opportunity, as Croke Park will be filled with Americans, and afterwards that same room in that same hotel will no doubt be filled with a lot of those Americans watching the Ryder Cup singles matches.
Thereās such an opportunity for propah nawtiness in Dublin this Sunday. First of all to wind up the fat Trump loving cunts by demonstrating about Palestine, and you know, the genocide by Israel that the USA and its fascist regime and TROOPS are supporting without condition.
Then to wind them up by telling them how shit their āsportā is.
And then to finally push them over the edge by continually shouting Death to America during the golf.
Itās a unique opportunity to use the medium of televised professional golf to fight against genocide.
Iāll probably just stay at home and watch it on the dodgy box with a four pack of Tuborg though, or if the dodgy box is playing up, a free, illegal INTERNET stream.
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I knew it was going to be like this.
Itāll be downright dangerous to be European at Bethpage on Friday. I wouldnāt be surprised if ICE raid our team room & take one of the vice captains.
After Maria Steen failed in her bid to get on the ballot for the Irish Presidential Election, Rolex have decided to spend the money earmarked for donating to her campaign to have an extra Rolex Hour each day during Skyās coverage.
Weird way to end your professional life, schlepping around after the McManuses
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Heāll be running the show for the centennial renewal in Adare sure, Hego and Nasher are already guaranteed wild card picks.
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This is some cuntfest lads.
They keep booing the governor of NY. A load of MAGA lads in the crowd Iād say.
No weirder than pucking sliotairs at cows.
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Beats working 9 to 5 anyways
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Iād say he hasnāt worked 9-5 in years.