Why one Ryder Cup was enough for me

Don Scott

I had no intention of attending September's Ryder Cup at Bethpage Black on Long Island.

None.

This year was the 45th meeting of the European stars against the stars of the American Tour. Past golf tournaments at Bethpage have been a you-know-what show with drunk, rude, obnoxious fans. I knew I would be embarrassed by their behavior as an American to be there. Granted, it’s only about a quarter of one percent who ruin it for everyone else. But I expected it to be ruined. Add to that the fact that tickets were running $1,000 per day, and my decision not to go was made easier.

But then my cousin Jim, a golf pro with connections, called and said, “I’ve got free tickets, free parking, free hospitality suite, and the possibility of a front-row seat.” Now, “free” is one of my favorite words in the English language. Hard to say no. Besides, I hadn’t seen my cousin for a few years, so I said I was in.

The Ryder Cup is different from other tournaments. Since there are only 24 players participating, there are only a handful of holes with action. Contrast that with a regular PGA Tour event, where there are golfers on all 18 holes. As a result, the 55,000 spectators in attendance were crowding around just a few holes to see the action. Not ideal.

Add to that the music, the hype, and the bad behavior of a few rude and raucous fans, and you’ve got something that feels like a cross between WWE and a hockey game. I’m sure Bobby Jones is turning over in his grave at the lack of decorum.

Due to the generosity of a bestie—coincidentally also named Jim—I’ve had the privilege of attending the Masters in Augusta several times. The comparison of the atmosphere at the two events is stark. I once saw a patron (we don’t call them fans at Augusta, since it is short for fanatic) get escorted from the property for quietly flipping his friend the bird in one of the grandstands. Stepping onto the grounds of Augusta is like walking into a cathedral or the city of Oz. And everybody behaves that way.

The bad behavior of the fans was part of the reason I was quietly rooting for the Europeans. I say quietly because I did not want to get a beer dumped over my head. I wore my Scottish flag belt as a subtle signal of solidarity with my Euro ancestors. The other reason is that the European team seems to have more characters compared to some rather bland personalities on the U.S. team.

The European players (with some exceptions) mostly come from working-class backgrounds compared to the country-clubbers on the U.S. team. Some of my favorites: Tyrrell Hatton, known for a colorful temper and a love of pubs; Justin Rose, older than the next youngest player by over a decade; and Tommy Fleetwood, the only person who doesn’t like him is his barber, since he needs a haircut. He has shown immense class in heartbreaking defeats on the PGA Tour recently. And finally, the villain of this year’s Ryder Cup—at least as far as the Americans were concerned—Rory McIlroy. In addition to completing the Grand Slam this year with his win at the Masters, McIlroy was the best advocate for the PGA Tour vs. LIV. His reward from the PGA Tour was that when they made a deal with LIV, he found out about it in the press rather than from PGA leadership. No good deed goes unpunished.

I was surprised by how many Europeans were there to support their team. They dressed in great outfits, made a lot of noise, and were clever in their cheers, which—as you may have heard from watching a soccer game or two—are done as songs. A couple I will remember: when the Americans were down in most of their matches and the crowd got quiet, the Europeans started singing, “Are we in a library?” When the Americans were mathematically eliminated with a Shane Lowry putt on the 18th hole, U.S. fans were heading to the exits. The Euros started singing, “Are we having a fire drill?” And for the final needle: a group of them were dressed in costume at the exit, handing out crying tissues to the U.S. fans. Very clever. And amazingly, I don’t think any of them got beat up.

I’m glad I went to the Ryder Cup. My first trip will definitely be my last, though. It was quite a spectacle, with the loud music and the raucous crowds. It felt like Woodstock meets the Roman Colosseum. Not my cup of tea for a golf tourney, but very memorable. It makes me appreciate Augusta even more.