Chicago, 2012. Last year, Lollapalooza. This year, some golfing thing.
It happens every two years. You will probably end up watching the Ryder Cup. You’re not sure when it starts, though. It doesn’t really matter. Even the dudes on Morning Drive have to be Googling that thing on their way into work. Nobody ever pays much attention to golf, but that’s not ours or golf’s fault. In reality, it’s a leisure sport. And, some wouldn’t even call it a sport. Pastime. No, that’s baseball. Leisure Activity. How about that? Golf is really no different than swimming lanes at your neighbourhood pool/gym/pool. Sure, anyone can do it, but the old people are the only ones confident enough to sport the proper attire.
Every two years, we’re stuck with four days of the Ryder Cup, and with a fabricated storyline. Or, two.
Last time, it was all about Tiger’s return. That was 2010, of course, and it was less than a year after he had crashed his SUV into a tree on his own lawn, post-sinful coitus.
The real story, of course, was that the Europeans continued their dominance in the event, while Rickie Fowler stole his final four holes on Sunday to tie and Hunter Mahan broke down in tears in the post-match press conference.
The story, as always, is this: the Europeans enjoy winning this thing, and the American don’t know how.
Even Team USA’s most celebrated recent victory – 1999 – is tainted by luck, and by ugly-a*s uniforms. Justin Leonard sinks a putt from three states away and the Americans complete a massive comeback on the final day. Of course, Jose Maria Olazabal was still waiting to putt while a few dozen ecstatic hillbillies shouting, “USA! USA! USA!” ran all over his green, but hey… this is Sparta, right?
Even then, it should be evident to everyone that the Americans’ victoris are always nailbiting miracles. They require an explanation from the Lord above, and no doubt you’ll get one if you ask for one in the United States.
But, the Europeans? They dominate. They tear the U.S. apart. They have fun out there, and they embarrass the stars and stripes every time.
Heading into 2012’s four-day reminder of how insulting Happy Gilmore was (in a good way), neither Fowler or Mahan will have a chance for an encore.
Instead, the Americans will go with their usual roster of slapped-together talent, and they’ll come up against an always vibrant European side that seems to continually strike the perfect balance of veterans, youngsters, hipsters, happy-go-lucky almost teenagers, and swagger.
And, we won’t even know when it starts until it does.
That’s how golf always is. You’re on your way into work on some random Thursday, and then the same guy in our office mentions something at about 10:14 a.m. – something about Tiger, or Phil, or Bubba – and you realize that, yes, the Masters is on. Or, the British Open. Or, the Ryder Cup.
And yet, oddly, we always seem to have the President’s Cup bookmarked.