Ryder Cup (Two?)

Apart from the fact that I hate golf, and that I’m going to stage marches on the homes of known golfers in my area, there’s another reason I think the Ryder Cup is a whole big pile of shit. It’s because the Ryder Cup is a whole big pile of shit.

When Smurfit bought Straffan House in the mid-eighties, he was one of the Irish millionaires with attitude. In those days there were five of them, and they were all guaranteed to be mentioned in the Sunday Independent every Sunday, by sad and desperate old fuckers like Terry Keane, to guarantee invites to the five millionaires’ sad old dinner parties, (because they were all old and near death).

I can tell you that this is true. I was there at the time, but I can’t tell you how I know, because it would embarrass others. When Smurfit was laying out the golf course, he had constructed for himself a podium. A viewing platform. A throne. It was about twelve feet high so that he could survey his creation. And every morning he used to go out to Straffan House and ascend his throne, to gaze upon his own magnificence, for a moment or two. Ozymandias, king of kings.

That is why I hope the heavens open upon the Ryder Cup.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.