Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in Volume 6 of B.H. Magazine, pre-order your copy of Volume 7 now.
The noise – a deafening, Trump-eting hoo-ha of nationalistic fever – is no surprise. It’s the silence that shocks.
As the Ryder Cup prepares to tee off at the ungodly hour of 7:10am, I’m standing in a heaving, rocking temporary grandstand at Bethpage Black Course, outside New York, which seems to hold about 50,000 people, most of whom have clearly been drinking since 4am.
As the players from the two teams – The US and Europe – are introduced, there’s a mix of “YOOOOOUUUU ESSSH EHHH!” chants from the home boys and deafening boos and abuse for the Europeans as they walk out, with armed police escorts, and attempt to smile towards the few friendly faces in the crowd.
Spain’s Jon Rahm, who’ll go on to play a significant part in the battle to come, is practising his swing for his first drive when a beefy bloke bellows, “You’re a sellout!” Rahm famously took the big petro-dollar payout from LIV Golf (As much as US$450 million, apparently) but he – and other LIV representatives including American Bryson DeChambeau – have been allowed to take part in this unique and challenging contest.
The Ryder Cup is – unusually for golf – a team contest rather than an individual one. It’s only held every two years, with the venue switching between Europe and the US.
While it’s nearly always played staged on privileged, private golf courses, this year, the Americans chose their home ground as Bethpage Black, which is a public course the rest of the year. It sports an infamous warning on a board at the first tee: “WARNING – The Black Course Is An Extremely Difficult Course Which We Recommend Only For Highly Skilled Golfers.”
Back in the thick of the crowd, closing my eyes, it’s easy to imagine that this is what the Colosseum might have sounded like if the Romans had annoying accents, and the Ryder Cup went back that far.
Now in its 45th edition, the Ryder Cup has earned both a fiercely passionate following and a rare status among players – a tournament worth playing for pride alone. Historically, no one as paid to compete. This year, however, the US PGA broke with tradition, awarding each American player US$500,000, with the polite suggestion that they donate at least US$300,000 of it to charity – or more, if they wished.
Those chosen to represent their continents in the Ryder Cup must set aside their solidarity instincts for one weekend and play not just for themselves but with and for their teammates. It’s a format that famously makes fools of highly ranked heroes – even Tiger, at the height of his powers, never quite shone in this team setting – and heroes of those who seem emboldened by national pride and camaraderie.
Over the next three days, world number one Scotty Scheffler – the main reason behind America’s boundless confidence – would unravel almost completely. Despite recently playing like a white tiger, he lost all four of his matches across Friday and Saturday, and looked visibly broken.
Rahm, on the other hand, would LIV large – rising to the occasion magnificently and winning three vital matches. But what’s this, now, as he finally addresses his ball on the first tee? Absolute utter silence – as if a ball has been shoved into the mouth of every loudmouth on the course.
It’s a funny thing about golf – as with tennis – the fans instinctively respect the Zen-like moment when a player lines up a shot and sends it some obscene, impossible distance. Anyone who’s ever tried to play –and “tried” is all I can honestly claim – knows just how impressive it is when a pro lets rip on a drive, sinks an unmakeable chip, or nails a monster putt.
In cricket, a game that’s theoretically, just as genteel – if not more – the crowds never stop shouting as a batsman faces a fast ball. And yet here, even in this baying bear pit – and whenever the Ryder Cup is played in the US, fans are a huge reason why golfers say there’s nothing harder in sport than winning away from home – the noise politely stops at the pivotal moment. That silence? Absolutely shocking.
Unfortunately, as Europe surged to an early, unexpectedly dominant lead, this brief outbreak of good manners didn’t last long.
On the ground, seeing it all up close, the outbreak of boorish behaviour was staggering – vile abuse aimed not just at the European players but their wives, homophobic slurs, and worst of all, shouting during backswing or putting strokes. It felt less Augusta, more WWE. And Rory McIlroy, Europe’s Ryder Cup talisman and world number two, was cast as the big bad guy.
As a neutral event-goer, it was absolutely fantastic to watch – the Europeans didn’t just withstand the pressure; they thrived on it, rising to the occasion and smashing their American opponents in near-record-breaking style. Naturally, that only made the U.S. fans angrier… and louder.
McIlroy in particular was indomitable. You could see the fire – at one point, he told a heckler to shut the f–k up, and by day two, the sheriffs were lining the fairways during his matches. But he channelled the chaos, blocked out the noise, and kept landing daggers into American hearts. He just kept winning, while Scheffler unravelled.
The Ryder Cup’s format only adds to the drama. The first two days are all about pairs: “foursomes”, where teammates alternate shots with the same ball, and “fourballs”, where each player plays their own ball but only the best score counts. It’s pressure-packed teamwork on a ticking clock. Then comes Sunday – 12 head-to-head singles matches.
By Sunday morning, with the team contest behind them and the final day set to be decided by 12 single matches, the Europeans were so far ahead, the Americans could barely see their dust. A whitewash looked not just possible but probable.
Still, with every ticket long sold at a huge US$1,000 a pop, the fans showed up in force. And what a spectacle they got. It’s what makes sport so glorious – the sheer unpredictability.
As the day wore on, the Americans began clawing their way back – even Scheffler finally got one over McIlroy in a tense one-on-one – the tension became electric and the noise once again deafening.
If, by this point, you developed a distaste for the US crowd and found yourself more in step with Europeans, you kept spirits high with chants like my personal favourite, “You’re sh–t, but your birds are fit!” – then the ending was nothing short of perfect.
America – seemingly relishing the return to solo play – got a real sniff of a miracle. It felt close, but late in the day, Irishman Shane Lowry rolled in a putt that ended the dream and sealed the win and away victory. One of the hardest beats in sport was finally, gloriously real.
A team needs 14.5 points to win the Ryder Cup. Just a few hours into Sunday, the scoreboard was forecasting a European blowout – 17.5 to 10.5 – with the US given less than a 1% chance of pulling off a comeback. The final score? nail-biting 15–13.
Afterwards, the American team showed little remorse for the crowd’s behaviour, which included someone throwing a beer that hit Rory McIlroy’s wife. Some, however, did speak up. Golf legend Tom Watson, 76, offered a rare note of class: “I’d like to apologise for the rude and mean-spirited behaviour from our American crowd at Bethpage. As a former player, [Ryder Cup] captain, and an American, I’m ashamed of what happened.” The PGA of America’s CEO later followed suit, issuing a personal apology to McIlroy and Team Europe.
And so concludes one of the wildest Ryder Cups in recent memory – part sporting battle, part morality play, and part beer-soaked pantomime.
If you’ve never rated golf as a spectator sport, the Ryder Cup will change your mind – it’s pure theatre. Definitely one for the bucket list. You’ll have to wait until 2027 for the next edition, when the Cup heads to Adare Manor in Ireland – and the rules will sound very different.
Luckily, you won’t have to wait as long to see Rory McIlroy in action. He’s confirmed for the Australian Open in Melbourne this November, returning to Royal Melbourne for the first time since his 2014 win.
Rolex – one of golf’s most enduring patrons – has quietly deepened its commitment to the Australian game with a new five-year partnership with Golf Australia and the PGA of Australia. The deal will support both men’s and women’s Australian Opens, along with the BMW Australian PGA Championship at Royal Queensland this November.
