Special K. The 2006 Ryder Cup.

by Garry Cook

Not much to say about the Ryder Cup. The pictures of Darren Clarke said it all, really.

Like last time, the European team demolished the Americans in a way that they should never be able to. The Yanks are better, stronger and win more trophies. But when it comes to team play they've fallen well short over the past few years.

At the K Club in Ireland the Yanks never got going. Scot Colin Montgomerie further enhanced his image as a phenomenal Ryder Cupper who can do it for the team on the big occasion but can't quite do it for himself (the exact opposite to Tiger Woods).

There is a danger now that the Yanks, having lost the Ryder Cup three times in a row, will lose interest in the competition and give up on it completely. Their interest seemed to be waning a few years back, although Tom Lehman's team did put a bit more effort into preparations this time.

But in the end the Yanks abroad were about as organised as the US army in Baghdad. They came, they saw, they floundered. Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, the K Club. This lot don't travel well.

It was 'well done' with a few 'to be sures' all round to the Europeans from the seniors like Clarke and Monty to Swedish rookies Robert Karlsson and Henrik Stenson, the latter sinking the putt which won the tournament.

But special mention needs to be made of European captain Ian Woosnam', who sounds less and less Welsh every time he speaks.

While I appreciate his leadership and organisational skills, I can't see how the £10,000 he spent on players' clothing can be justified when the squad are forced to line up in hideous pink jackets with white round-neck t-shirts to receive the trophy.

While Sky proudly broadcast the win live, it was left to everyone's favourite old granny Beeb to shrink the day into a Sunday evening delights package, all the action and aftermath into one bitesized condensed lump.

Golf doesn't work too well in a highlights package - as David Howell taking three shots in succession proved.

But the Beeb stepped into its own class when victory was secured. Its determination to bring everyone to tears by asking Clarke questions about his recent bereavement, or asking everyone else questions about Clarke's recent bereavement was ruthless.

And it worked a treat. Hazel Irving got to Clarke first and she asked all the obvious questions. Minutes later Gary Lineker stepped in. He asked all Hazel's obvious questions, too.

The rest of the players got the same treatment. Everyone was choking up. I was just about managing to keep a lid on myself when the floodgates opened. The sight of twelve pink jackets tipped me over. I was a mess.

As they say in Ireland, they were a fecking disgrace.