I can't take this anymore. I'm happy for Matt Fitzpatrick, and I know you are too, and I'm happy for the sport of golf. But sitting here alone, on another bleak Sunday night, watching the fireflies outside the window, I can't escape my own truth.
The future looks brighter. Early doubts that the evolution of the European Tour’s strategic alliance with the PGA Tour would be more likely to enhance the stature of the latter at the expense of the former have been appeased.
The Americans' performance so far at the the 43rd Ryder Cup has been so commanding, it begs the question if this event’s tide has been turned for the foreseeable future.
By Sunday evening at Ryder Cups, as champagne is being sprayed all over the place, no one remembers what happened on the Friday morning. That’s the beauty of the Ryder Cup. The team is what matters.
