It's just a bit too over-the-top for golf, isn't it?
Now? Not so much. The confluence of life and too many Sunday afternoons spent in too many arenas has turned me into a less-than-casual fan; I can’t remember a weekend when I paid rapt attention to what was going on.
And all that’s a way to suggest that the Ryder Cup that’s unfolding this weekend holds very little allure to me.
Not just because of the golf, to tell you the truth.
I’m sure the golf will be exceptional and it may draw me in; I love great shot-making, appreciate the drama of team play and those singles matches on Sunday are more intense that any golf you’ll ever see.
No, what’s turned me off the Ryder Cup a little bit is the over-the-top fans, the flag-waving, booing, jingoistic fervor masked as patriotism.
I have issues, big issues, with the American fans who try to rattle the European players, I have a bit of an issue about the us-against-them mentality that pervades the whole event.
Golf should be a gentlemanly game where great shots, no matter who strikes them, should be appreciated and marveled at.
I have no problem with cheering for your guy or your side but I do have a problem with wishing ill upon the playing partner, cheering a missed putt, mocking a shot that goes awry.
The TV guys feed into it too much, the writers try to make it a bigger deal that it should be.
These are the greatest players in the game, I think they deserve respect; the Ryder Cup fans just go too far over the top for my liking.
That said, I’ll probably tune in – in fact it could be white noise after I get this done and start puttering around on gigantic Nothin’ But Net-like pre-season preview and Raptor camp set up for the first of the week – but I’ll try to ignore the noise.
I know I’m late to the party on this new Mumford and Sons stuff might surpass Little Lion Man as one of the favourites of this era.
A friend passed on this band a while ago – my sincere thanks – and this is the kind of music I like. A lot.
Not a lot of noise, discernible lyrics and just a solid sound.
Guess they do do some good stuff these days.
You know what we need?
Another iconic Canadian sports moment.
Look, as we know, I’m quite comfortable with re-living the good old days, or the bad old days, a simpler time.
But, jeez, this whole 1972 pucks thing is really getting old, isn’t it?
Yes, I was as caught up in the event as anyone. I remember getting sprung from school the afternoon of Game 8 and I vividly recall bursting out of my front door when Henderson scored to celebrate with the other street urchins and I would imagine a road hockey game broke out right after.
It was “the” moment of a kid’s life.
And it’s nice that they celebrate it, nice that it’s remembered but it’s been so over-done in the intervening four decades that it’s almost become a joke.
Every year, it seems, we get stories about it, the requisite “where are they now” pieces, we have been inundated with remembrances for too long; maybe the 25th anniversary would have been enough, but not the 10th, 15th, 20th, 25th, 30th, 35th and now 40th.
Don’t you think it’s almost too much?
There’s always room for more mail, Irregulars.
I can’t remember exactly what day it was but there was a day when I was sitting on a stool …
(I could probably start a lot of stories that way, but that’s another story entirely).
Anyway, I can’t remember what day it was but there was a day when I was sitting on a stool doing a wee bit of work and I was hooked into a wireless network thanks to my iPhone and the guy one down from me was watching some video on his phone and the guy one down from me the other way was checking his e-mail on his phone and I’m thinking I can probably put away the old Remington electric typewriter that’s somewhere in the basement and I can probably make sure the old Tandy2000 is relegated to some dustbin and how did we ever get through the last quarter of a century?
Oh, and that my basement bar, whenever I get around to setting it up, is going to be a testament to technological changes over the years.
Something like a grunt’s museum except with a wet bar.
No exhibition pucks games?
Whatever will we do?
Maybe the NBA will take notice and whack, say, four of theirs per team.
Actually, this has turned out to be perhaps the best pre-season of all time for the HOTH, only seven games instead of eight, four at home, only one in a neutral site which isn’t an issue because it’s Montreal and they put on a great show last time.
Besides, it’s Montreal for goodness sakes, if you can’t find a way to enjoy a Thursday night there I fear for you.
Okay, I need to say this one more time.
The kind comments yesterday, the thanks, the notes; it was almost too much.
But it was so so so appreciated, I can’t tell you how much.