Olé! Olé!
He was not a force during the week, either, showing up mostly
for moral support, with his wife and kids—and, on Saturday,
Michael Jordan—in his cart. Seve didn't cart around his kids,
and he made his wife walk with the other wives. Wife and kids on
the Seve Chevy? Are you mad? Clarke and Woosnam rode with him
one day as he screeched around the course, and they lived to
regret it. Barely. "They were a little scared," Seve admitted.
You talk about a Rider Cup.
Exhibit A of how Kite got outcaptained: As the Americans' world
fell in on Saturday—they wouldn't win a single point the entire
day, the first time this had happened to any team since
1967—Lee Janzen and Jim Furyk had a 35-foot putt in the near
darkness on number 18 in their alternate-shot match against
Montgomerie and Langer. If the U.S. could just two-putt, it
would likely win the hole and save half a point. Anybody would
have said, "Let's just call it an evening and come back
tomorrow, when we don't have to read bentgrass in the dark."
Plus, Monty hadn't sat out a match the first two days. To make
him get up early the next day, finish the alternate-shot match
and then play a singles match hours later might just have killed
him. But Kite was nowhere around to offer that kind of advice.
He didn't arrive until after Janzen had bombed his putt 10 feet
by and two seconds before Furyk slapped the comebacker badly
past the cup. U.S. concedes hole. U.S. loses match. Monty sleeps
in. Monty ties a battling Scott Hoch the next day for the half
point that gives Europe the win, 14 1/2 to 13 1/2.
It was never that close. In fact, the Europeans never trailed in
these matches. They scored the first point of the first day when
Mickelson clanked a huge six-foot putt to lose to Italian Ice
(Costantino Rocca) and Olazabal. Europe led 4 1/2 to 3 1/2 at
the end of the first round. Then, on Saturday, Seve and his
toreros turned the fairways red with American blood.
In the morning better-ball matches the U.S. lost three outright
and tied a fourth. The most amazing half point of the week was
that of Spain's own, Olazábal and Garrido, against Lehman and
Mickelson. Mickelson hit "the single greatest shot I've ever
seen," in Lehman's words, on the 17th, the trick hole Seve had
redesigned. (The Americans would go 1-2 there during the doubles
matches. Woods never seemed to figure the hole out and even
putted into the lake once.) Under serious Gs of pressure,
Mickelson hit a two-iron out of the rough from 239 yards to
within six feet of the jar. An eagle here would put the U.S. one
up with one to play. Then Mickelson blew the putt, his second
spirit breaker in two days. "Pienso que más a la derecha, pero
no," Mickelson said, to the delight of the Spanish interpreter.
(He meant, "I thought it would break more to the right, but no.")
Garrido, meanwhile, hit his second shot into the steep,
fake-Augusta 13th back bunker, which nobody had gotten up and
down from all week. Garrido got up and down. "Maybe the
second-greatest shot I've ever seen," said Lehman.
On to 18, all tied. Olazábal hit his drive into the trees and
onto a bed of bark chips. He dropped from the chips. Seve was
there, of course, wondering what club he was going to hit.
"Seis," said Olázabal.
"Siete," said Seve.
"Seis."
"Siete."
Ollie hit siete into the front-right bunker. Then he knocked the
ball out of the bunker to 18 feet and drained it for a half
point, followed by one of the loudest and most
hair-straightening roars that have been heard in the Andalusian
hills. Ollie not only made a barkie, a chippie, a droppie and a
sandie, but he also survived a Seve, which ought to be worth an
Emmy.
The point is, that's the way the whole day went. The Europeans
played as if their houses were in the pot. By nightfall Europe
led 9-4, which in a Ryder Cup is like saying Dallas 52, Buffalo
7 halfway through the third quarter. There were 15 matches left,
in which the Americans would need to score 10 1/2 points. In
other words, they were slightly more dead than Franco.
Still the U.S. came out on Sunday and promptly started fighting
some serious windmills. Lehman, Mickelson, Fred Couples, Jeff
Maggert and Mark O'Meara all won going away, in some of the most
sensational singles performances in recent Ryder Cup history.
But Love lost to Sweden's Per-Ulrik Johansson in a shocker, and
Tiger lost to Italian Ice, and then Faxon missed a 10-footer to
stay alive against Langer, and it all ended right there at
17—where else?—as the Europeans clinched at least a tie to
retain the Cup.
Your MVG (Most Visible Goat) was Love, in a landslide. "Look at
the board," he said. "If Tiger and I win our matches, the Cup's
ours." In fact, the three Americans who won majors this
year—Leonard, Love and Woods—went a combined 1-9-3 in Spain.
Ah, well, there's still a few Yank consolations: We can probably
whip the Europeans country against country. And Tiger could draw
cards for any three Euros' combined net worth. But we will never
have a Seve. To the end Seve was the King of Spain. He called
this win his "greatest achievement," then resigned from the job,
saying he would like to return as a player for the '99 Ryder Cup
and then captain again in "maybe 2005." Any questions?
If the U.S. ever wants to beat him, it must do the following, as
soon as possible:
1) Move the Ryder Cups held in the U.S. to courses the American
players know. Forget The Country Club in Brookline, Mass., site
of the '99 Cup. American Tour players don't go there. How about
the TPC at Sawgrass? Or Augusta National? Think Tiger might get
more than a point and a half there?
2) Dump this happy-family stuff. Get an s.o.b. in there—Hale
Irwin, maybe?—who won't care if he spikes some toes. I don't
care how late it is, I said we're going out to hit two-irons!
Let's move! And....
3) Call the Penske people. We gotta get working on a better golf
cart.
Issue date: October 6, 1997
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