It was Sunday afternoon and I was just riding along in the back seat of a car wondering why we were being blessed with such beautiful weather this past weekend when my phone rang. It was my dad...
Dad: "Hey, listen, what's going on with this Ryder Cup?" he asked.
Me" "Last I saw, we were up 10-6 and looking pretty strong," I replied
Dad: "Alright, great. So I guess I don't really need to watch all afternoon, huh?" he said.
Me: "Probably not. It looks pretty well in-hand, but I'd check back later this afternoon to watch us march to victory."
I should have known then that the US Team was dead in the water. I never talk like that about any sport or any situation. I'm the ultimate sports pessimist and all of my friends would agree. I rarely see the silver lining and always wonder when things are going to make a turn for the worse.
Growing up near Cleveland will do that to you.
For some reason, I had a lot of optimism for Team USA in the Ryder Cup this weekend. Maybe it was because I felt like it was being battled in my back yard at Medinah, or maybe that seeing Brandt Snedeker dominate so strongly to win the TOUR Championship and FedEx Cup had me feeling good vibes. You know, that whole momentum carrying over thing...
I would really like to sit here and just pick apart Davis Love and his entire Ryder Cup team, but it almost feels too easy, like I should be challenging myself to put aside any bias I had in this tournament and let positive thoughts about how great Team Europe was down the stretch fly from my keyboard.
But, there's that whole sports pessimistic thing that holds me back from giving Rory and the international players their due. They didn't win, we choked it away, I tell myself. If Love had played Mickelson and Bradley on Saturday, we would have built a truly insurmountable lead going into Sunday, I say. This whole thing was fixed and played out so ratings would hit record numbers so TV big wigs could roll around in green backs while we suffer, I conspire.
As you can see, my thought process has not been entirely sane over the past two days, which is exactly why I made myself wait to start writing up my report on what should have been a star spangled, ramparts red glare, USA! USA! USA! celebration. But, it simply wasn't to be.
Instead, we get to wait another two years to give it another shot. Which is great, because I'm most known for being a patient person who does not seek immediate and direct retaliation when something I deem bad happens. No, really.... I'm not.
In the end, Team USA choked. That may be the most hated sentence I've ever written that will post to this blog. But as much as I'm a pessimist, I'm not unable to see what truly happened.
And I should have seen it coming. I certainly won't soon forget it.