Crying games
So what was Nick Faldo blubbing about a week ago when he was talking to the media about his European Ryder Cup team’s meeting with Muhammad Ali on the Valhalla course at Louisville, Kentucky? He doesn’t strike one as the weeping kind, though he has form. I seem to remember him reaching for the man-size after tapping in to win the Open at Muirfield in 1992. And we’re used to sportsmen cracking up during the event (remember Darren Clarke red-eyed and tender at the K Club two years ago, only a few weeks after his wife had died). But before, a whole day before? All very peculiar, especially in contrast to Faldo’s general carry-on on Sunday after leading Europe to their biggest defeat for more than 25 years, when he was gambolling around like a teenager on a promise. I have a theory.
They arouse mixed feelings, do weeping sportsmen.
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