McEwan: Quit the pearl-clutching. The ‘bad side’ of matchplay is what makes it fun.

There’s a memorable scene in Friends in which Phoebe reacts to Rachel’s disgust at a sales assistant flirting with her ex-boyfriend Ross.

“Oh my God!” gasps Phoebe in mock indignation. “A woman flirting with a single man? We MUST alert the church elders!”

I thought about that magnificent bit of sarcasm a lot over the weekend whilst observing the predictably pious umbrage at some of the Presidents Cup antics.

“Down with this sort of thing,” harrumphed the usual suspects, citing unwritten rules, the importance of proper etiquette and – of course – the ‘good old days’. (I swear, if I have to hear about the Jacklin-Nicklaus concession one more time…)

The sanctimony klaxon was triggered by all kinds of perceived malfeasance. Players giving it the big ‘un after holing an important putt; ‘gimmes’ not being given; exuberant celebrations; the crowd being too loud; the crowd being too quiet; Mackenzie Hughes chugging a beer on the tee.

Some people, it seems, just can’t deal with a bit of gamesmanship, a bit of needle – dare I say it, a bit of fun.

They must be a right laugh at parties.

“Turn the music down!”

“Put a coaster under that!”

“So, how’s work going?”

Ugh!

Give. It. A. Rest.

Here’s the thing: without a little bit of chicanery or bravado or whatever you want to call it, matchplay is just a bunch of people playing golf and shaking hands. That might be enough for some people but it isn’t for most. Not anymore.

Times have changed, folks – 2024 is to 1964 what 1964 is to 1904 – and whilst I’m sure I’ll be ‘educated’ on the many ways in which that’s a bad thing, it’s also a very real thing. So deal with it.

I saw somebody insist over the weekend that Old Tom Morris would have been “turning in his grave” at the behaviour of some of the players at Royal Montreal. Aside from the preposterous arrogance of assuming you can speak on behalf of a man who has been dead for over a century, how could you possibly know that? “Old Tom would never”? Old Tom was one of the original matchplay golfers and played in high stakes money matches. I’m willing to bet that Old Tom did.

I’ve long had a hard time accepting that golf must be a sausage – beg your pardon, hostage – to the past. Mindful of it, yes. But beholden to it? Give me strength.

There is, of course, a line. There has to be. That’s how we uphold the rules of the game. As in the actual rules, not the blurry, written-in-pencil-if-written-at-all manifesto some seem convinced we should all live by. That other stuff? That supposed ‘expected way to do things’? That’s fair game.

If somebody spontaneously erupts in delight after holing an important putt, what’s the problem?

If they absent-mindedly celebrate with their teammate and caddie before shaking their opponent’s hand, why is that such an issue?

If fans boo the opposition on the first tee, is that really so bad? Because if it is, we need a new credo for attending pantomimes. Heaven forbid anybody dressed as Captain Hook develop a complex.

It’s funny, many of the same people who dismiss events like the Presidents Cup as meaningless exhibitions do appear to take them very seriously. Do this but not that. Don’t do that; instead, do this. It’s very odd. Controlling, almost.

Professional sport is so much more fun when it’s played both on the edge and with some edge. It’s concerning that anybody would look to stifle passion and emotion in order to preserve some archaic list of values.

Paul McGinley summed it up perfectly as Keegan Bradley stood poised to secure the winning point for the US.

“We saw quite clearly with the car park incidents at the Ryder Cup the edge that was there,” said the Irishman (who knows more than most about matchplay golf). “We’ve seen it this week, too. Tom Kim, in particular, had some antics that the Americans took exception to and there’s been certainly a simmering edge going on behind the scenes.

“That’s a good thing. That’s what these teams thrive on. Yes, they can be friends and there also can be a line that we know not to cross, but you’ve got to get as close to that line as possible.”

Couldn’t agree more.

It was feisty. It was spirited. It was impassioned. It was fierce.

It was (here’s that word again) fun.

Bruised egos will heal. Hurt feelings will mend. Golf? Golf will continue to be just fine.

There is really nothing to see here.

Relax. Live a little. Just bloody enjoy it.

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Michael McEwan is the 2023 PPA Scotland ‘Columnist of the Year’ and ‘Writer of the Year

Michael McEwan is the Deputy Editor of bunkered and has been part of the team since 2004. In that time, he has interviewed almost every major figure within the sport, from Jack Nicklaus, to Rory McIlroy, to Donald Trump. The host of the multi award-winning bunkered Podcast and a member of Balfron Golfing Society, Michael is the author of three books and is the 2023 PPA Scotland 'Writer of the Year' and 'Columnist of the Year'. Dislikes white belts, yellow balls and iron headcovers. Likes being drawn out of the media ballot to play Augusta National.

Deputy Editor