The Ryder Cup, Europe and the USA, rivals but friends.

 The Ryder Cup, Europe and the USA, rivals but friends.

Contrary to literary belief golf is far from being a good walk spoiled. Was it Mark Twain who once believed that golf is just a blight on the sporting landscape? Besides, what on earth do golfers hope to achieve by strolling the length and breadth of every conceivable golf course around the world and then claim a massively lucrative prize, an eye popping financial jackpot that we all know can change lives and enhance player profiles no end. Some are millionaires and some are poised to become but there can be no doubt that the golf as a spectacle can still be one of the most enthralling sights in global sport.

This morning the esteemed likes of Rory Mcilroy and captain Luke Donald cleaned up the first of the foursomes in the Ryder Cup. It was quite the most remarkable moment as both Mcilroy and Donald hugged each other movingly and then congratulated each other in a way that English football would like to think a World Cup Final victory will be celebrated. It was a snapshot of sport's at its finest, its most honourable and its most uplifting. They fell into each other's arms as if they'd both won the National Lottery a hundred times over and yet this was golf, a sport so fascinating and magical at times that you sometimes wonder why some of us tend to overlook all its dramatic value and raw excitement.

And yet this morning at the Marco Simone Golf and Country Club in Rome they gathered at the first hole driving range and they played as if the game had just come to them naturally and automatically. Wearing those distinctive caps, comfortable sweaters and snazzy shoes, the gentleman of the USA and Europe stood at their tee, wiggled their hips amusingly, straightened their shoulders, held their driver rather like a mother and father holding their infant baby and addressed the ball with all the anticipation of men meeting up with an old friend. They then swung the ball beautifully, the ball flying off into the Italian air like a missile that travels for ages before eventually ending up in a rough fairway. It is a yearly ritual and golf is in its element.

So this year the Ryder Cup is being staged in Rome, which in itself sounds the most improbable setting for any golf tournament. The Italians love their football and for some of us remain the most baffling choice for inclusion at a Six Nations rugby union tournament but golf and Italy aren't normally as synonymous with each other. But give the Italians a tennis racket or, even to some extent, a prestigious athletics track and they're all over it, grasping at the nettle and buzzing with an exuberance that can only be healthy. 

Still, here we were on the first day of the Ryder Cup and for Europe this means business because there are issues to be resolved, revenge to be won, unfinished business if you like. You see Europe are still looking for a hot streak of devastating form from their players. A couple of years ago the Ryder Cup provided us with some of the ugliest and most unpleasant images you could ever have hoped to see on a golf course. It was the 18th hole and the Americans were poised to win the trophy again. Then there was bedlam. The final putt gave victory to our American friends and the green was swamped with players families pumping aggressive fists at their European counterparts. Up in the watching gallery, feverish American fans cheered, roared and seemingly taunted Europe with what could only be described as provocative behaviour.

This year Rory Mcilroy and Justin Rose, two of Britain's most consistent and conscientious of golfers, will drive off with the support of whole hearted and noisy supporters behind them. They will swivel their hips, adjusting, shifting their body from side to side with an almost genteel movement and then hoping the ball will take them so far down the fairways that it'll seem only a matter of time before impressive birdies will be claimed with almost effortless ease. They will accumulate their triumphant pars for the hole as if by instinct, almost blindfolded.

Then Luke Donald, Tyrrell Hutton, Shane Lowry, Jon Rahm and Sepp Straka will make meaty connections with their golfing irons and clubs hoping against hope that the Americans do have chinks in their armour and vulnerabilities because even the Americans have those. Still, the Americans have chutzpah, cheek, bravado, braggadocio and mischief in those caddy's bags. They still think they have a divine right to win the Ryder Cup because Uncle Sam Ryder thought they were the best thing since sliced bread, superior golf players with strategic approaches and cunning plans. It was all somehow a matter of time before the Ryder Cup trophy would be theirs to hold proudly.

For those of a nostalgic turn, childhood memories take you back to the giants of the game way back then. There were legendary geniuses such as the late and much missed Seve Ballesteros, a master of his craft, Jack Nicklaus, a gorgeous player to watch, surely one of the greatest if not the greatest. Nicklaus had that rare ability to hold his nerve while all round seemed to be losing their head and then proceeded to play golf with an almost regal composure, a stunningly stylish golfer, peerlessly gifted. He chipped out of dense bushes and weeds with a gentlemanly elegance that the sport may never see again. He putted with all the astonishing accuracy of a man who'd been playing since he was a kid.

Then there was Lee Trevino, humourist and wisecracking extraordinaire who simply laughed and joked his away around a golf course as if he were on a chat show with Johnny Carson. The now sadly missed Arnold Palmer was almost the grand master of the game, an immensely talented technician, measuring putts like a chartered surveyor with a theodolite and then pacing himself with an abundance of technique and innate flair.

In Britain we had Nick Faldo, a golfer with an extraordinary repertoire of shots that invariably landed in the right place at the right time. There was Colin Montgomery, moody and, quite possibly, temperamental by his own admission but that was because Montgomery was a passionate perfectionist. From your childhood Tony Jacklin was the golfer who once pocketed a hole in one at the British Open and won the tournament. Jacklin was graceful, well mannered, skilful and vastly knowledgeable on all matters relating to irons, woods and putters in golf.

Today an American contingent including Sam Burns, Patrick Cantley, Wyndham Clark, Rickie Fowler and the often brilliant Brooks Koepka  will join forces with his equally as classy colleague Jordan Speith. Speith has been one of golf's cheerleaders and finest ambassadors, always concentrating, never afraid of variation and innovation. Then Max Homa and Justin Thomas will stride out onto the tee with all the confidence of men who know what they want and will strain every muscle and sinew to get it.

And so we are left with the rather disheartening words of Mark Twain ringing in our ears. Golf is of course undoubtedly a very therapeutic and deeply cathartic walk. It's highly beneficial to both our mental and physical health, keeps us as fit as a fiddle and remains the best exercise. The perception of golf as a game designed just for the wealthy and super rich elite is now quite clearly old school and old hat. Stereotypes of course should always be taken with a pinch of salt and Twain may well have got out of bed on the wrong side.

Golf is open to everybody regardless of social status, class and background and can earn big bucks for you which has to be a good thing. So Samuel Longhorn Clemens golf has never damaged or hurt anybody and today in Rome, the Ryder Cup will be proof in the pudding, justification to all the hardened cynics. But we did enjoy the literary prowess of Mark Twain and Huckleberry Finn would probably have made a superb Ryder Cup captain. As the late BBC golf commentator Peter Alliss might have gently added. Golf is the best and most relaxing of all sports. Few would have argued the point.

PS. So here we are Ladies and Gentlemen. Yours truly has now written my 1,000th blog and it's hard to believe that seven years after my first modest contribution to the world of literature that here is my first notable landmark blog. I will continue to write for pleasure and just continue to derive as much enjoyment from writing as I always have and always will.