The problem with golf’s time in the spotlight is the recent propensity for that focus to be negative. Never before has this sport, apparently in the midst of a scrap for relevance and identity, so needed a scintillating Ryder Cup. All that is good about golf, from the values it provides to the scope for such a wide range of society to partake in it, has been lost in an unfavourable swirl.
The tale of woe is a lengthy one. Global attention understandably diverted towards Muirfield’s preposterous refusal to admit female members in May. The dust had barely settled on that embarrassing farce when another one ensued, Dustin Johnson’s winning of the US Open overshadowed by a rules episode at Oakmont. In both scenarios golf as a whole was turned into a laughing stock.
The sport’s troubles did not end there. Golf’s Olympic return may, after a 112-year absence, have proved a pleasant surprise and produced a stunning conclusion but the level of reluctance that preceded Rio involvement was the key narrative. This is linked to a wider point: the game’s desire to form part of the Olympic movement partly resonated in the need to retain or claim global prominence.
Nike’s position in the golf market had been defined by sponsorship of Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy before the sudden announcement that the manufacturing of clubs and balls would cease. One presumes Nike’s senior figures know enough about the validity of different sports for their lack of interest in golf to cause alarm. Likewise the golf wing of Adidas, TaylorMade, has been on the market for a year without any buyer coming forward.
If these offer prime areas for concern, they are not alone. Golf has become painfully slow at the elite level, to the extent where this negatively influences amateurs. Middle-aged men have migrated to cycling. There has been the desire for some time to provide a shortened form without anyone properly squaring that particular circle. The European Tour’s announcement within the past fortnight of a modified tournament next February flirted far too closely with gimmick. That such radical alterations to competition are deemed necessary in the first place is hardly a positive.
The impact weather had on this year’s US PGA Championship at Baltusrol may be beyond administrators but the scheduling of that final major is not. The event lacks substance, partly because it is placed far too close to the Open Championship and partly because it seems too much like a standard PGA Tour stop. The option to move the US PGA to another country, as was mooted, should have been grasped rather than discarded.
So there is no pressure on this Ryder Cup, then. Here we have an occasion that has grown into a ferocious commercial beast. It is more partisan, more akin to standard team sports by way of spectator engagement, than ever before. For all the platitudes and mutual backslapping, there is a deep-rooted hardness within the mind-set of McIlroy, Justin Rose, Henrik Stenson and Danny Willett just as applies to Jordan Spieth, Patrick Reed, Phil Mickelson and Zach Johnson.
The captains are intriguing characters. Darren Clarke’s danger lies in the potential for overreaction to falling short of perfection. Davis Love III appears rather keen to keep everyone happy, to the extent where statesmanlike leading from the front has not been particularly evident. Love has plenty of voices telling him where to turn.
“This team has never played together before,” stressed Love in relation to poor recent results. “It’s 12 strong guys and we’re looking to the future. You’ve heard it over and over again from us; we’re really proud of this team. We’re excited about it.”
Clarke has had to temper the continuation of a successful European template with what would be a natural desire to make his own mark. Clarke employed the Irish rugby legend Paul O’Connell to speak to Europe’s players this week, with a two-theme message delivered. That related to playing away from home and working collectively, the latter especially applicable to those who have an indifference towards players they call team-mates for one week of every two-year cycle.
“It’s quite a fulfilling role,” said Clarke. “It’s one that I’m really enjoying but there’s a lot of preparation that goes into it. Whenever we actually get here, after a year and a half of planning, to see that come to fruition, it’s wonderful.
“Has there been anything to change my mind? Everybody’s playing pretty well, so there’s some tough decisions to be made. But I have my plans and I’m going to follow them through.”
This represents special sporting territory. Where else do opposing sides, let alone those featuring global superstars, share a hotel? By close of play both teams will be partying the night away in the same room while donning daft wigs.
The serious aspect relates to the deep desire of the United States to win, at long last. They are rightfully favourites by virtue of, at base level, the stronger team and the superior collection of putters. It is on the greens – these ones are particularly glass-like – that so many Ryder Cups are won and lost.
Still the bounce in Europe’s step has been obvious, assisted partly by McIlroy’s memorable claiming of the FedEx Cup on Sunday and comments emanating from the hosts that offer decent motivation. Clarke and his team have a quiet confidence that contrasts with the United States; there, motivation can bleed into desperation pretty easily.
Hazeltine is not particularly pretty, nor would it feature on any bucket list of courses in the United States. They could, however, play the Ryder Cup in a car park for all the venue truly matters. The crowd and atmosphere are what set the Ryder Cup apart, not the nuances of par-fives and semi-rough.
Predictions are a fool’s errand. So here it is: the United States will have reclaimed the Ryder Cup when Sunday darkness falls. That outcome would do the event a favour. Special entertainment would offer likewise to this sport itself.
