When the Euros wrapped up the Cup, despite Garc�a's singles loss to David Toms, Surge-io was hap-hap-happy again, charging 200 yards down the 18th fairway, jumping into the arms of anybody who'd catch him and then making imaginary snow angels in the fairway—all while Love was trying to hit into 18. Love's opponent, Pierre Fulke, sheepishly offered Love a halve on the hole, and Love took it, nearly stepping on Garc�a's neck as he left.
"Sergio is Sergio," Love said, teeth clenched, "and that's all I'm going to say."
Not that Love could've played his shot anyway. About 100 Euros were dancing, leaping and cartwheeling on the 18th green, pushing the excessive-celebration envelope. "But we're poor sports when we do it," Hal Sutton grumbled.
Then there was the Swede, Niclas Fasth, who was slightly more intense than a bottle of Ephedra. "I wanted to fight him all day," said Paul Azinger, who tied him by holing a stunning bunker shot at 18. "He was pumping his fist from the first hole. I told his caddie, 'What is that crap?' I mean, what's he trying to do, incite me?"
Finally, is there any competition in the world as stupidly run as a Ryder Cup? To combat U.S. strengths, Torrance got to set the speed of the greens (slow), the width of the fairways (he pinched them at 290 yards) and the length of the holes (he ruined the greatest match-play hole in the world, the par-4 10th, so the Americans wouldn't try to drive the green)—everything but the order of Strange's singles lineup, and Strange wound up doing that/or him. Do the Los Angeles Dodgers get to move the fences back when they play Barry Bonds?
So, until the U.S. and British PGAs do the right thing and turn the match setup over to an independent body—say, the PGA of Australia—may we suggest the following for 2004:
a) Open the fairways wider than the Santa Monica Freeway.
b) Overnight, secretly mow some greens short and only tell U.S. players.
c) Arm marshals with tranquilizer darts, just in case you-know-who bounces by.