It’s always a risky
business mentioning The Ryder Cup if you are within twenty-five million miles
of an American. It is not that
your average American is quick of temper or subject to a sudden fit of the
vapours but he is much more likely to plummet into the doldrums of despair and
the eternal abyss of hopelessness at the mention of The “Shhh! Let me say it
quietly” Ryder Cup. You see, the
US-at-large is not really much good at winning it.
I love facts, figures
and a large smattering of research-based evidence. I live my professional life by them and they kinda overspill
into all things personal too. I
mop them up like a dry sponge in liquid.
It comes naturally. With
The Open ringing in my ears and a big question mark left in my thoughts as to
the circumference size of Zach Johnson monk’s tonsure, I set about the task of
discovering how many TRCs America had actually lost. It’s not looking good for the Big Country with nine wins for
Europe against their four, and one recorded draw, since 1985.
You might wonder why I
should suddenly raise the question of TRC and I offer, by way of rationale, the
story that’s been circulating on t’internet. That’ll be the one about John Daly’s wish to be a future captain. It appears this statement came straight
from the horse’s mouth and was not merely a piece of journalistic frippery
invented by a sports writer on a bored off-day. Well done, John.
And while I have no wish to call you a horse, you are a giant of a man
in every sense of the word and I think you deserve a shot, gastric band and all–
even if it’s a very long shot. But
then, Long John, you have pulled off that sort of bombing shot long before The
Dustinator came on the scene and usurped your crown. At 49, you can still crush a 300 yard drive with ease and a
little birdie in the shape of Wikipedia tells me that you were the first, and
still the only player, to reach the green in two on the famous 630 yard 17th
hole at Baltusrol. You don’t need
me to say “Well done”!
Long John’s personal
life may have steeper dips and troughs than the Scream Roller Coaster and his
golf may have gone the same way on several occasions but his five PGA Tour
wins, a smattering of business acumen with that in-your-face-golfing-gear, his
singing career, and his charitable work all show that this is a man who knows
how to dig deep and fight back. Sainted
he is not but, in JD’s own words, “Never underestimate the fat man”. And we don’t.
This is a man who has
never lost the common touch: in 1991, when we didn’t know he was ‘Wild Thing’
or could make our hearts sing with his ‘Grip it and rip it’ philosophy, this
last minute ninth alternate entered the field at Crooked Stick Golf Club and
played his way to victory in that PGA Championship. But during the first round, a spectator was fatally struck
by lightening in a violent storm.
Though not a rich man and on the receipt of his first fat pay cheque as
winner, he donated $30,000 towards the education of the dead man’s infant
daughters. Sterling effort there,
John, with your dollars investment: those girls are all grown up and graduated
successfully. For sure he has been
thrown out of Hooters and alcohol and addiction have played havoc in his life but
mention Lori Laird and Make-a-Wish Foundation and there you have a more
balanced view of the man. The only
one Wild Thing has really hurt is himself.
Golf has a reputation
for being a toff’s game with this odd sense that dressing a man in a collared
shirt and mock Simon Cowell high-waisted belted trousers somehow morphs them
into sporting gentlemen. “You
can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear”, my mother used to say and while I
never imagined in my wildest dreams that she would feature alongside John Daly,
for once, I agree with her.
There’s more than a grain of truth in that timeworn statement about
manners making a man. So give me a
bit of levity here, cut me some slack, dump the stuffy image and let’s see golf
ramp it up in the fashion stakes at a showcase event. I am always up for a bit
of a clothes statement and I cannot wait to see the American team buzzing in
Loudmouth apparel. I am quite
convinced that they will smash the fashion stakes with John in charge. Sorry, Tom Watson, delightfully
mannered and ‘haute-coutured’ as you are in every sense of the word – and I’m a
fan - old school won’t win diddley-squat here and it is so last week. It’s way past time to change if golf is
to get a toehold in the brave new world of youth. Time to pull out all the stops and make the fun happen.
But a Ryder Cup with
John in charge of Team America can only mean one thing for us: as a hybrid
Irish-Anglophile, I think I am a percentage qualified to say there is only one
suitable candidate to lead Team Europe.
Dubbed “The most interesting man in golf” and hailed by Rory as his hero,
he has pulled an albatross out of the bag in 2009 by holing a 206-yard six-iron
on his second shot on the par five fourth at the BMW PGA Championship title. Oh yes! Let’s hear it for the one and
only Miguel Ángel Jiminez, our Spanish-born, Austrian-residing candidate to captain
our team.
And who will worry about
the golf? It threatens to be a
riot, a blast, and a non-stop fly-on-the-wall docudrama of soap land
proportions with a plethora of chilled golfing moves thrown in for good measure
- JD versus MÁJ, Wild Thing versus Hip Swing, Crooner versus Moonwalker, The
Gambler versus The Mechanic. Imagine
the scene: Hooters cater every meal, beer carts on every bunker, and the
victory dinner washed down with a vintage Rioja and some fine Cuban
cigars. It’s a no brainer.
Okay, so Miguel The
Mechanic, I know you have a fantabulous taste in cars but you don’t have quite
the same wardrobe panache as Grip-It-and-Rip-It and I am really trying to be
tactful here despite my given nature.
Thankfully, my mother advised me against a diplomatic career and, again,
I agree with her. It would have
been a non-starter; I’d have lasted three months and got the sack. That aside, you need to get the gear on
board. I am not talking urban
slang dictionary here - lest The Sunday Times comes chasing after me for
inciting the world of golf to transgress – I just want you to snazzy it up in
the dressing-up stakes. Three
words will see Team Europe kitted and fitted and ready to compete on Loudmouth
level - Royal & Awesome will do it nicely. Forget the ampersand.
The rest is a Picasso paradise of riotous colour and design.
Now, John, if I could
have a quiet word: the shirtless video interview. I’ve seen it. Oh my! It brings a tear to my eye and it is
not one of laughter. I’m on my
knees for the first time in years.
My mother will be eternally grateful: you succeeded where she
failed. I’m praying that fun-loving
golfer John will never become an advocate of naked golf. The rest, as they say, would be mass
hysteria. I tremble.
Rory moves like Miguel –
http://www.balls.ie/golf/rory-mcilroy-miguel-angel-jimemez/294484
And the video we've all been waiting for in Large-as-Life-and-Twice-as-Natural Technicolor
