And so to Whistling Straits, a venue with a name so ridiculous it could only be something to do with golf. The Ryder Cup is on us again, that biennial experiment to discover which overweight American is loudest at shouting ‘get in the hole!’
Golf shouldn’t be about artificial passion. Don’t get me wrong, the game itself is not without merit. For various work reasons I’ve spent a bit of time at professional tournaments, and the players are likeable, down-to earth people from ordinary backgrounds who just happen to be incredibly skilled at hitting a small ball into a small hole that’s far away. They’re as different as could be from the Bossy Accountant types who make amateur golf such a repugnant spectacle. If any of that brigade ever try to inveigle me into conversation I reply ‘I don’t play golf, I like women’.
The Americans started it, of course. This is a nation that has to artificially ramp up the excitement of every sporting event
A proper golf tournament – the Open, say, or a run-of-the-mill tour event – can be highly entertaining.
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