It is raining in Wales today. No, really, it is and quite a lot too. I stumbled out of bed on a rare day off, hazily made my way to my sofa just in time for the first tee shot in the 2010 Ryder Cup. It had been eagerly anticipated, much discussed from all manner of pundits and journalists yet no-one seemed to have paid any heed to the weather man. It was Dustin Johnson who struck the first ball in anger, beads of water dropping rhythmically from his cap. If there was any doubt just who the big Texan was or who he was playing for it was dispelled in an instant for the Americans riposte to the nasty European weather was Harlem Globetrotter tracksuits. Their names emblazoned in star lettering on their backs. WOODS. USA. Thanks for that, I was wondering.
The rain continued unabated. One was expecting a window cleaner to pop up on the sky screens to wipe it clear. Tiger looked as if he would rather be in a press conference. In the midst of weather some fine golf broke out. Lee Westwood took the mantle of European leader in his stride while Jeff Overton holed a tremendous putt from the edge on one to banish any rookie nerves he may have had. And then we stopped. Steve Stricker could not place the ball anywhere on the fairway on the fourth. Sanity prevailed and the players rushed indoors. The Americans had to replace their waterproofs because they were just, frankly, ugly pants very susceptible to water.
The deadline for play to resume came and went at twelve and then one. The denouement will now come on Monday. The weather’s good. I’ve checked.
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