September 29, 1999
Jingoism? You bet. Now, get over it
By Gil LeBreton
Knight Ridder Newspapers
(KRT)
On behalf of the “United Slobs of America,” as London's
“Daily Mirror” so smugly named us this week, let me
say this to our media cousins across the big pond:
Get over it.
The Ryder Cup is over. Your lads gagged and lost. Rent “Happy
Gilmore” for the night, take two aspirin and send your wrinkled
kilts to the dry cleaners.
But by all means, get over it.
Though sometimes best played on a Sunday morning, golf is not
church. Decorum standards are relative. One man's royal and ancient
traditions are another man's Phoenix Open. If jingoism and flag-waving
are so disdainful, why pair off into teams in the first place?
Yet, listen to Tuesday's whining:
“America won back the Ryder Cup,” wrote the “London
Express”, “and the ugliest galleries in all of sport
went home feasting on their restated superiority over guys with
funny names and funny accents.”
Elsewhere in the same newspaper: “History will show that
the USA won the 33rd Ryder Cup but lost the esteem of the rest
of the golfing world ... Some of the dreadful scenes that occurred
in this genteel Boston suburb dragged the Royal and Ancient game
into the gutter ... Listening to their grudging apologies later
was to realize that largely they are a crass and classless bunch
intent on winning at all costs.”
Yep. We're awful, aren't we?
We like to win. At times, we are even passionate about it.
And it's a good thing we Yanks are so fervent and emotional about
things, or you blokes across the pond might today be speaking
Russian or German.
Arriving after a hasty retreat via the Concorde, European captain
Mark James stiffly predicted, “A lot of players will not
be bothered competing in America again. Certainly that is the
case with me. It's not something I would look forward to.”
Too bad. But I have a feeling that the Ryder Cup is going to go
on without him.
That was sport at its rawest and best over the weekend. It happened
to be golf. It could have been a foot race, or a tennis match,
or two sides pitted in an afternoon of soccer.
Let me suggest that we Americans know all about boorish behavior
at athletic events. We didn't invent it. Teams from the United
States have been putting up with louts and jingoistic crowds at
Davis Cup matches and Olympic Games for years. One of the worst
arenas is the Pan American Games, where the issue usually boils
down to Uncle Sam against Everyone Else.
We deal with it. We try not to whine. We move on.
The Ryder Cup was ripe for Monty-baiting and flag-waving long
before it reached Brookline, Mass. We love challenges, and the
way the Ryder teams are stacked makes for an ever-intriguing test
of gamesmanship, as far as the Americans are concerned.
To U.S. fans, reared on the NFL and the NBA, the Ryder format
accomplishes something that the PGA Tour annually fails to deliver.
It puts a human face on golf.
That face may have looked ghastly to stunned Euro-journalists,
as they watched their home side's gaping lead crumble Sunday.
But there was fist-shaking and impromptu celebrating taking place
from both sides throughout the weekend — and, dare I say
it, as far back as the previous four Ryder Cups.
I'm not advocating anarchy here. The “kid” who allegedly
spit in James' wife Jane's face should have been escorted off
the Brookline premises. And future Ryder venues should think about
placing a limit on the amount of alcohol that's sold (With Michelob
scheduled to be a future sponsor, that may be impossible).
But I find it hard to muster much sympathy for a Colin Montgomerie,
whose petulance plays right into the American galleries' hands.
He is what we call, of course, a “rabbit-ears,” and
once we know he is listening, we find ourselves vicariously plugged
into the very event. Big mistake, Monty.
If Montgomerie would just ignore the peanut gallery and continue
to radar home those incredible putts, the drunks would wander
off in search of a new target.
Instead, he and Jose Maria Olazabal became the losing side's tragic
heroes of the Ryder Cup. And a lot of Euro-journalists, faced
with the prospect of chronicling their side's historic collapse,
chose instead to cop out and focus on the Americans' behavior.
Too bad. You cheated your readers.
Next time, your place. Eh, comrade?
(c) 1999, Fort Worth Star-Telegram
Visit the Star-Telegram on the World Wide Web: www.star-telegram.com.
Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.
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