United by the exploits of green Graeme

LOOK at it this way.

Saint Patrick came to Ireland against his will from wet and misty Wales.

Since then, he has been claimed by both religious persuasions on this island, where sport is another religion altogether. On that basis it was right and fitting that tough Graeme McDowell, a golfer from a mixed marriage, should become the man who deluged the Usk Valley with European elation yesterday evening by sinking the putt which brought the Ryder Cup back home. It was great stuff.

It seems ritual now for Irishmen to deliver the killing strokes in the Ryder Cup battles. But in what was the longest and toughest Ryder Cup ever, forced into an extra day’s play by the relentless rain atop Celtic Manor through the weekend, McDowell’s coup over the durable Hunter Mahan on the 17th in the red-hot final game was the most dramatic clincher of all after a day in which the USA fought like lions to almost snatch victory from the jaws of the defeat.

Putts of similar length to the ones which brought the Ulster man a birdie on the 16th and that final concession a hole later were being routinely missed all day by the best golfers in the world as the pressure bit, as the Europeans lead melted away through the morning, as it came right down to the wire.

McDowell held his nerve when it mattered.

Hail glorious Graeme.

On the thrill scale in our terms it could be argued that the Ryder Cup finale was much more thrilling and riveting than the recent All-Ireland SFC final and only slightly less so than the All-Ireland SHC decider. As the Americans fought back from dawn to narrow the three-point deficit they suffered on Sunday, every stroke counted in every game.

It was compelling viewing and, in an essentially “selfish” game, where these millionaires play weekly for massive money, it was incredible how infused with passion they became during the ups and downs of a struggle between the Old and New Worlds. The ringing chants of “Eur-ope, Eur-ope!” around the course, and the passion of the galleries, was remarkable. Are these golfing jousts especially passionate because the Americans represent the opposition? I can’t tell. But what is a fact is that the internationalism of the battle adds the chilli to the stew in a way not experienced even in the majors. A formerly unimpressed Rory McIlroy made the point after his own halved match (a crucial element too) when he said he’s changed his mind and it is the greatest tournament of all.

The frequently difficult and peevish Colin Montgomerie, the European captain, won his own first major yesterday, if as a captain rather than a player. The man was overcome with emotion at the close, unable to speak for some time, unable to even watch the final plays. If it was undeniably Harrington the Lesser who turned up for the weekend, the decision to anchor his team with McDowell proved inspired. Said Montgomerie: “Graeme was put (at the bottom of the order) because he is the US Open champion and full of confidence... that birdie on the 16th was quite unbelievable.”

Montgomerie’s placements were crucial because, amidst the crackling tension, the Americans actually took seven of the singles as opposed to five for Europe. It could not have been closer as McDowell triggered the elation over the Usk and it just had to be Irish supporters who began to sing “Ole, Ole, Ole!” as the champagne bubbled.

In the midst of the pitched battles there were some individual duels almost lost in the heart of the war. Tiger Woods, virtually humiliated on Sunday, bounced back to near his best to defeat Franco Molinari and Phil Mickelson was also a winner. There were surprises all over the course. Lee Westwood, the European talisman at the weekend, had to give best to Stricker after a tough battle but Ian Poulter played out of his skin to crush Matt Kuchar as early as the 14th, by which time he was six under par. When Johnston dispatched Harrington 4&3 in the penultimate clash the teams were level and it was against that high-voltage background that McDowell’s closing exploits will never be forgotten.

And it was then that Montgomerie became so overcome with emotion that he was smiling like a Highland baby through the tears. A great sporting occasion indeed.

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