Golf: Cheering for Europe

The roots of the European invasion were at Royal Birkdale in 1976. On those drought-browned links a 19 year-old Severiano Ballesteros announced himself with a second place in The Open. It wasn’t simply his youth or the element of surprise; he brought a Latin joie de vivre (or whatever it is en Espanol) to his game, and even his charming Spanish accent was endearing. Three years later, he became the first man from continental Europe to win a major since 1907, triumphing at Royal Lytham St Annes. While most top pros played ‘percentage golf’, Sevvy, like his contemporaries and my other sporting idols John McEnroe and Viv Richards, would produce shots nobody else would dare attempt. If they went astray he would simply seek a ruling and then pull off astounding recoveries. I vividly recall the agony of watching his drive at the sixteenth flying off into a car park, then the amazement as his next shot landed on the green. 

He proceeded to win the Masters in 1980 and 1983 but my abiding memory of Sevvy was his boyish delight after sinking the winning putt at St Andrews in ’84. The whole nation punched the air with him. By the time his 65 defeated Nick Price at Lytham again four years later Sevvy must have been one of the most popular sportsmen on the planet, as well as one of the most successful. The majors were important, of course, but he was also one of the most brilliant matchplay golfers of his or any other generation.

This came in particularly handy in the Ryder Cup. The GB & NI team had been serial losers in the venerable biennial contest with the USA so in ’79 other Europeans were allowed to compete in the hope of evening things up a bit and increasing interest over here. It sure did. It wasn’t all about Sevvy. The American stranglehold on world golf was also being loosened by German Bernhard Langer and Ballesteros’ fellow Spaniard Jose-Maria Olazabal, with whom he created the most successful partnership in Ryder Cup history. 

One of my favourite Open battles came in 2007 when Padraig Harrington went head-to-head with Sergio Garcia. Despite considerable success around the globe, neither had a major to their name, and I didn’t mind which came out on top. Sadly for him, Garcia blew his third round lead and the Irishman beat him in a play-off. It took Sergio another ten years to achieve that elusive first major, bless him!

In the past few decades many others from across the Channel and North Sea have starred in the top tournaments. Jesper Parnevik, Henrik Stenson and Thomas Bjorn have led a superb Scandinavian contingent, Martin Kaymer won two majors in the States, the cigar-chomping Miguel Angel Jimenez was one of the most familiar faces on the circuit and now Italian Francesco Molinari is amongst the best in the business. He is already a Ryder Cup legend having won all five of his matches, pairs and singles, in Europe’s stunning 2018 destruction of the Yanks in France. 

The competition has never really seared itself in my consciousness the way the Open Championship has done. Perhaps it’s because I wasn’t brought up on it, watching on television. In recent years I’ve been content with highlights coverage, whether from Europe or across the pond, especially since Sky secured exclusive rights, turning the event into a war-like confrontation. The broadcaster would have loved the 1991 ‘War on the Shore’ and 1999’s ‘Battle of Brookline’ when jingoism reached new heights, or rather depths. 

I’ve always detested the US gallery’s tendency to ‘Whoop!’ at every opportunity. I would gladly strangle the irritating sod who, after an American drives off the tee, shouts “It’s in the hole!” There’s always one. And it’s never in the hole, you moron! Thus my interest in the Ryder Cup has intensified whenever the Europeans are in the driving seat. I know that not all the Yanks are as obnoxious as Paul Azinger but my Euro-patriotism is whipped up to eleven whenever the USA have their asses whupped, especially on their own soil. The ‘Miracle of Medinah’, when Europe overturned a 4-10 deficit to succeed by a point, was particularly satisfying. Perhaps this makes me as bad as the zealously patriotic Americans. Almost. At least I reserve my histrionic demonstrations of bias for the privacy of my own living room.

All the on-course fist-pumping and wife-hugging leaves me somewhat uneasy, even the manic actions of our own Ian Poulter but the Ryder Cup does feed my dislike of almost anything American, and that was before golf-loving Trump became President. It seems a shame that, while Europe are as competitive as ever in world golf, Britain is reverting to prehistoric nationalism and fear of Europe over the whole Brexit fiasco. Well, I for one will counter the Stars and Stripes by continuing to fly the blue and gold stars when it comes to golf, cheering McIlroy to Molinari, Rose to Rahm.