Foul-weather Friend

Won't Tiger be psyched to be paired with him?

That's the other thing: Tiger. He's the No. 1 player in the world by a light year, the Golfing Gladiator. Until he goes to Ryder Cups, and then he suddenly becomes Dead Man Walking.

He mopes around like a husband in couples therapy, only he talks to his partner less. It may the only thing he sucks at. His Ryder record is 7-11-2, and no wonder. He wasn't wired for team play. He trusts nobody. Why should he buddy up with people he's been trained to swallow in two bites or less? The hangman doesn't play on the prison softball team. Lions don't room with lambs.

Yet every two years all the U.S. players seem to take their Stepford cue from Woods. They all play as though they have to put their shirts back in the boxes when they're done. Of the 12 guys on this year's team, nine have a losing Ryder record or no record at all. You know who's got a great Ryder Cup record on the U.S. team? Tom Lehman (5-3-2), Corey Pavin (8-5) and Loren Roberts (3-1). Only problem is, they're the coaches!

This thing needs a readjust. We've lost seven of the last 10. Can't they at least give us Canada?

Only eight players on the American team are in the Top 50 in the world. The Euros have 10, and they've still got two captain's picks left. They have the same group of partyers that has been popping U.S. corks for 10 years now: Olaz�bal, Garc�a, Harrington, probably Westwood and Clarke. Nothing changes every two years except the site of the execution.

They'll outplay us and outguzzle us and outwhoop us, and at the end, while the American players are slinking back to their jets, the Euros will be swan diving off the TV tower into a swimming pool full of Guinness.

And I'll be there with me straw.

I'm them now. I've joined the champagne-swilling side. I'm more European than pay toilets. I wear kneesocks with sandals and drink Beaujolais at 10 a.m. and never read a newspaper that doesn't have a naked girl in it. And if you don't like it, you can bugger off.

Wait. Excuse me? You say all true Euros love Monty?