There’s something about me and the Ryder Cup. In the last 6 Ryder Cup tournaments, I have attended 4 of them. And next week, I am heading to Louisville to see another. My most memorable Ryder Cup was in 1997. That year the Ryder Cup was in Sotogrande, Spain at Valderamma Golf Club. It was Tiger’s first year but the Americans still lost.
In 1997, my best friend, Murph, was selling raffle tickets for the National Neurofibromatosis Foundation (NFF). When he called me, he said that he had a few tickets left and asked if would I be interested in buying some. I clearly remember asking how many he had left and told him that I, along with my business partner, Ross, would buy the balance of what he had left. It wasn’t a lot of money but it was enough. The grand prize for NFF raffle was a trip on the Concorde to the Ryder Cup with the U.S. team; one week on the Costa del Sol with Tiger, Mickelson, Couples, Love, O’Meara et al. It was a golfer’s dream come true.
On the Monday night of the raffle drawing, I was sitting on the floor at home with Christine working on some project when the phone rang. I said to Chris, “hon, it’s likely to be for you as my pals don’t call me at this time of night.” She agreed and got up to walk into the bedroom to answer the phone. “Unless,” I shouted after her, “it’s Murph calling me to tell me I won the raffle.”
“Hello…Hi Murph….Yes, he’s right here.”
I knew he was calling. Don’t ask me why.
“Murph, you’re calling to tell me I won the trip to Valderamma, right?” I queried him.
Murph’s simple but as always elegant response was, “start practicing your Spanish, baby.”
WOW. I started dancing around the house while I explained to Chris about the raffle. Woo Woo.
“We’re going to Spain,” Chris asked.
You have never seen the air come out of a celebration so fast when I explained to her about Ross and my deal with one another. Geez.
Ross and I flew from JFK airport in New York to Malaga, Spain, the first and only time the Concorde was ever in Spain. We attended the gala dinner with King Juan Carlos and George H.W. Bush. We burned up the marina bars at Puerto Banus. We ran into friends from the States, ate great food and couldn’t believe our dumb luck. It was an amazing and incredible trip that neither of us will ever forget. The mood on the plane returning to the U.S. after a yet another loss to the European team was incredibly somber but thankfully, the plane ride was over in just under 4 hours.
While my reputation as the luckiest man in American has faded like a pair of 5 year old Levis, next week, I am going to Louisville as the guest of the First Minister of Scotland, Alex Salmond. Don’t ask me how or why because I don’t know. But I am looking forward to it. Maybe this time the U.S. team will win. As you might imagine, Chris has no interest in going to Louisville.
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I wasn’t expecting to post today but I woke up at 4 AM and thought; what else is there to do at this time of the morning? When I remembered that Saturdays are Photo Hunter day, I went over to TNchick’s site to check out today’s theme. As soon as I saw that today’s theme is walking, I knew right away which photo I was using.
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