#17 Either you deliver or you don’t

Either you deliver or you don’t

When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight. FedEx built a global (and golfing sponsorship) empire on that absolute, positive promise.

But in 1935, crossing the Atlantic meant a different kind of delivery altogether. A week at sea from Southampton to New York was time enough to watch the ocean pass by while contemplating what awaited on the other side.

Alf Perry (right) with the Claret Jug in 1935 at Muirfield.

That was Alf Perry’s improbable journey in 1935. He was Leatherhead Golf Club's professional from 1929-1940. A former bricklayer who'd become a formidable golfer. Alf won The Open Championship at Muirfield with rounds of 69, 75, 67 and 72 – a total of 283 that wouldn't be bettered at that venue until Jack Nicklaus shot 282 in 1966.

Perry's individual brilliance took on deeper meaning two months later when he was picked to play for the Great Britain & Ireland Ryder Cup team. And, as a nod to Alf’s victory, the team practiced at Leatherhead before sailing (ocean lining) into hostile territory.

1935 Ryder Cup team visit Leatherhead Golf Club
for a jolly little practice round before the off.

Alf Perry and the 1935 Ryder Cup team are pictured above outside the old clubhouse at Leatherhead (my home club ICYMI). Alf is front row centre. Other team members were Percy Alliss, Dick Burton, Jack Busson, Alfred Padgham, Bill Cox, Edward Jarman, and three brothers – Charles Whitcombe (Captain), Reg Whitcombe and Ernest Whitcombe.

They were carrying hopes they knew were probably doomed at a time when everything moved at the speed of ocean liners. So it was in 1935, the US team (captained by Walter Hagen and including Gene Sarazen – both GOATs) won 9-3. That boat trip home must have dragged a bit.

Fact is, whether it was played home or away didn't matter – the US team dominated in the first 50 years with 18 wins, 1 draw and only 3 losses. This regular wooden-spooning for GB&I turned what was a friendly rivalry into ritual humiliation.

This is one of the reasons why it still stirs such emotions today. In 1929 (only the 2nd edition) at Moortown Golf Club near Leeds, one of GB&I's rare victories saw genuinely heated matches, crowds that were strongly partisan and some player exchanges that got quite personal.

Team tribalism and the sting of losing were baked in early. And that’s how the Ryder Cup played out until 1979... until everything cranked up a level.

1979’s tribal reawakening

Adding continental European players in 1979 not only saved the Ryder Cup from irrelevance, it seriously upped the stakes. Add the Zorro-like Seve into the mix and this deep rivalry began to transcend golf and become the patriotic beast it is today.

“The Ryder Cup is not about technique or who is the best player. It's about heart, about who wants it most.” – Seve Ballesteros

With the team element, continental pride hangs on every shot, especially the putts. No one cares what you’ve done before, it’s about now. What Seve grasped was how the Ryder Cup humbles even the best players. I mean, it’s great telly too because who doesn’t like to see millionaire golfers crumble into nervous wrecks.

The match play format strips you down to your desire to win. You're battling the course, but your main focus is trying to break your opponent (or at least not let them break you) with the weight of a continent on your shoulders.

It’s the FedEx promise again, when the pressure’s on and it absolutely, positively has to be there... no excuses, no second chances. It’s the same ruthless logic with the Ryder Cup – when your moment comes, you either deliver, or you don't.

Golf with the gloves off

There’s something savage that happens when the Ryder Cup goes west.

It's home advantage, plus plus plus every possible edge. Course setup is psychological warfare, with the rough cut to punish any lack of power or precision. Green speeds are calibrated to US tastes so it’s like putting on your car bonnet (yes, bonnet, not hood.)

The crowds make the atmosphere tense, spikey and shouty. In fact, New York golf fans are notoriously brash, vocal critics who treat visiting Europeans like unwelcome invaders. They don't just support their team – they aim to unnerve the opposition at every step with unrelenting sledging and their super-daft “light the candle” and constant “U-S-A" chanting. It’s not your average round of tour golf.

Much like the 1935 Atlantic crossing, it still feels like sailing into hostile territory. The crowds still bay for European blood, and it’s tough to stay positive when the odds suggest otherwise.

Because despite being current holders, the Europeans are looking like underdogs based on current form, course and crowd.

First, the weekend just gone tells a tale. At Silverado Golf Club, every US player made the cut. Scottie you-know-who won again (six wins and two majors this year) and there’s depth from Scheffler to Schauffele – they seem to be peaking at the right time.

Meanwhile, Europe's Wentworth warm-up revealed a few cracks. Mixed results, missed cuts, and crucially, several players looking shaky off the tee. At Bethpage Black, it’s 7,400 yards of pain if you’re wild and wayward. That kind of inaccuracy from the team in blue will give us the blues. Especially a long way from home when everyone’s shouting.

Home and away

European teams keep making the journey to America knowing the deck is stacked against them. In fact, Europe hasn't won on American soil since the 2012 “Miracle of Medinah”. And that meant everything falling into place to win by a solitary point – inspired individual performances, team chemistry, and American players choking.

The pattern is clear from the last 20 years: home advantage is massive, but not unbreakable. Crushing defeats followed by uplifting victories, depending on which side of the pond you’re from. The home team has won seven of the last ten matches, often by embarrassing margins.

On next Saturday night before the last day’s play, this European team will be well aware of recent history as they sit in their hotel rooms. They’ll know Sunday's singles matches could possibly define their careers and make them (sort of) immortal.

Just like Sam. I can still see that Sam Torrance putt from 1985 (I was a golf-mad 14-year-old) like it was yesterday. It dropped in slow-mo. It also marked the first victory since 1957 and a debut win for the new European team.

Sam Torrance knows how to celebrate a Ryder Cup win
as a player and a captain.

This is when it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight – when everything you've crossed an ocean for comes down to twelve individual battles against home advantage, form advantage, and crowd advantage.

The delivery mentality. No room for anything less. Just calmly dealing with the moment when the pressure is suffocating. And then holing that putt.

Let's upset the Big Apple cart

Alf Perry would be willing this European team on, I’m sure. He wouldn’t be overthinking it, because life was simpler in 1935 when the team sailed west. Although the storm clouds were looming over Europe, it was more about heart than head because they knew it was going to be an uphill battle.

Much like next weekend.

But you can defy logic and logistics – a bit like 1929, 1985 and 2012. Maybe these wins are timeless lessons that when it absolutely, positively has to be there and when everything's on the line, you need to be one of the players who stands and delivers.

That togetherness, with grit in your heart and a glint in your eye, is the spirit of Seve. That’s all we ask for. And as history shows, they're exactly the qualities you need to upset the Big Apple cart.