Ryder Cup: The most un-golf golf tournament in the world

It was 17 years ago when the European press crucified the American crowd at the 1999 Ryder Cup, dubbing them and anyone else honoring the Stars and Stripes, “The United Slobs of America.”

You see, the Euros weren’t too happy with all the celebrating breaking out on a golf course; didn’t like the U.S. players hooting and hollering after Justin Leonard drained a lengthy putt that proved to be the clincher; didn’t like it when the crowd yelled, “USA! USA! USA!” in chorus; didn’t like the heckling of its players.

“It was the most disgraceful and disgusting day in the history of professional golf,” said Sam Torrance, vice captain of the European squad in 1999. “The spectators behaved like animals and some of the American players, most notably Tom Lehman, acted like madmen.”

Let’s put this in a little bit of context: jumping up and down and high-fiving makes you a diehard fan at, say, Yankee Stadium, but do it on a golf course and you’re a madman.

This has always been golf’s biggest problem; it’s so frickin’ stuffy. At least the TV version. Follow the average foursome on a Saturday afternoon at the local muni and you’re going to find golf at its beer-guzzling, heater-puffing, cart-girl-hooting best.

It’s real, it’s uninhibited and, thankfully, it’s what the Ryder Cup has become.

Forget the pleasantries, real or otherwise, and the token golf claps after a two-footer for bogey. This is the one tournament where the players aren’t just playing for themselves; they’re playing for a flag.

It’s why fans come to the course dressed up like it’s the Fourth of July (or the European equivalent, if there were one); why players implore fans to get louder, not quieter, during a tee shot (as Bubba Watson did in 2012); why Tiger Woods is stoked to be a part of it, even on the sidelines.

“For the Americans to stand a chance of winning, they need their baying mob of imbeciles to caress their egos every step of the way,” P.J. Willett, brother of Masters champ Danny Willett, wrote in a column this week that drew much criticism for its … colorful description of the American fan. “Like one of those brainless bastards from your childhood, the one that pulled down your shorts during the school’s Christmas assembly, they only have the courage to keg you if they’re backed up by a giggling group of reprobates. Team Europe needs to shut those groupies up.”

Putting aside the fact that P.J. is still bitter over something that happened to him at a Christmas assembly a long time ago, he’s right. The American squad does need its baying mob of imbeciles to be vocal. And what’s so wrong with that, particularly when you consider the alternative?

Back in 1999, the American fans were described as “jingoistic” over their celebration. The Evening Standard wrote, “Perhaps the Europeans’ real victory here, unlike their hosts, was to treat this as a golf tournament and not like a substitute for war.”

No, not over the top at all, but those are the hurdles left to clear when it comes to this sport.

By 2012, this was the scene on the final hole, when the Euros clinched, tying the 1999 U.S. squad for the biggest comeback in Ryder Cup history:

I was standing next to that green at Medinah, an American rooting for the home team even as an “unbiased” journalist, and had no problem at all with the European celebration, mostly because it’s the point: to feel that thrill of victory and to give that thrill to those rooting for you.

Without that, what’s the point of playing? The point of watching? The point of writing about it?

Did the U.S. players and their fans go overboard in ’99? Maybe, but other than the hyperbolic journos comparing it to an act of war, was anyone hurt by it?

Here’s hoping the 2016 version is just as loud. Here’s hoping the end is just as thrilling, whoever winds up hoisting the cup. Here’s to the Ryder Cup, the most un-golf golf tournament in the world.