It would be very easy to drool with sentimentality over the Ryder Cup. But, at the end of the day, it is simply two teams trying to knock seven bells out of each other, in the nicest possible way.

Those trees seem to grow every year.

He used to be fairly indecisive, but now he's not so certain.

It is not a matter of life and death. It is not that important. But it is a reflection of life, and so the game is an enigma wrapped in a mystery impaled on a conundrum.

I can’t see, unless the weather changes, the conditions changing dramatically.

One good thing about rain in Scotland. Most of it ends up as scotch.

The game lends itself to fantasies about our abilities.