Jim Furyk Ryder Cup appointment shows U.S. captaincy cupboard is bare
Nothing against ol' Jim, a thoroughly decent gentleman, but the decision underlines the PGA of America’s desperation when it comes to skippers.
The golf writers’ traveling circus rolled down to wonderful Royal Birkdale for The Open media day and these haverings were cobbled together in the Henry Longhurst room, a delightful suite dedicated to that celebrated commentator of yore. By the time you read this, we’ll have moved up the coast to Royal Lytham. Back in 1969, when Tony Jacklin thwacked his final drive down the 18th en route to Open glory there, the aforementioned Longhurst was positively giddy.
“What a corker,” he cried in exultation. Funnily enough, an R&A official muttered something similar to this correspondent as he watched me wrestling with the tortured composition of this column. “What a plonker,” came the withering snort.
As for the high-heeled yins at the PGA of America? Well, a few observers have branded them a bunch of plonkers – or something like that – after they unveiled Jim Furyk as the captain of the USA team for next year’s Ryder Cup at Adare Manor. Nothing against good ol' Jim, a fine campaigner and thoroughly decent gentleman, but the decision underlines the PGA of America’s desperation when it comes to skippers.
Furyk’s unorthodox, eccentric golf swing was once likened to “an octopus falling out of a tree. ” Goodness knows how we’d describe the frantic flailings of the PGA of America? Basically, they’ve been holding out for Tiger Woods to take the job for the last few years.