Dear Harvey,
I’ve been writing about Staying in the Game (Fractals)—focusing on zooming in and out of sport and life to find the edges. But today, I’m taking a detour. Something landed heavy with me, and I can’t ignore it on Stay Whole Tuesday.
The Ryder Cup at Bethpage
I read a piece in The Athletic about the Ryder Cup at Bethpage Black, and as an American expat living in Britain, I felt ashamed. I wish I could say it wasn’t true, or that it was exaggerated. But the accounts rang all too true.
Paraphrasing from The Athletic piece, by Gabby Herzog, three things in particular stood out:
- The bad apples. A few loud voices poisoned quiet moments. Obscenities were shouted just as players were about to hit, even a flying beer narrowly missing Rory McIlroy’s wife. That’s not banter—that’s crossing a line.
- The chants. Europeans sang as they always do. At Bethpage, the U.S. couldn’t even muster a proper “U-S-A.” The atmosphere on the first tee was flat, and it wasn’t until late on Sunday that the energy found its footing.
- The bro culture. A new kind of attention-seeking fan—phones out, hunting for a viral moment—has turned heckling into a badge of honour. It’s less about golf, more about spectacle.
The Bleacher Bible
This made me think of my Texas Tech Red Raider friend, Chris Snead. Back in 1996, he literally authored The Bleacher Bible: The True Fan’s Guide to Better Heckling. His group of hecklers took pride in comedy that was quick, sharp, and—most importantly—family-friendly. They aimed for humour that enhanced the game, not detracted from it. That’s the difference: heckling can be playful, even artistic, but it loses its soul when it becomes vulgar or mean-spirited.
Sport Should Lift Us Up
I don’t share this to scold from afar. I share it because it makes me wince, and I care about the game. Golf has always asked something rare of its spectators: respect, patience, and a sense of being part of something bigger than yourself. That standard matters.
This weekend, I played a round with my friend Bill Boucher, who will be our club captain next year. I took a photo with Bill on the 13th green, with our favourite, most relevant, tree in the background, and it reminded me that the best aspects of the game still exist—steadiness, groundedness, and respect. That’s the version I want to embody, as an American abroad.
Crowds also tell a story. Whether at a golf course, in a stadium, or any place where people gather, the way we present ourselves speaks just as loudly as the players on the field. Respect costs nothing—and without it, the game itself begins to feel smaller.
Sport should lift us, not drag us down. Here’s hoping next time, we show up better.
gPage
P.S. I received a note from a British friend and golf mate, Dennis Culligan, who was on site last week at Bethpage. Dennis was just a couple of yards away from the Rory incident that got a lot of attention, where Rory backed away and told a fan to shutup, before stiffing his wedge shot to two feet. It was good to learn from Dennis that the vast majority of fans on both sides were courteous and the atmosphere was partison, but civil.
In a crowd of 50k plus there will always be a few morons. I can confirm that the miscreants were ostracised by fellow fans and dealt with by the NY State troopers onsite. One guy next to me was removed for insulting Bob Macintyre’s weight.
“Millions of people were charmed by the homespun golf advice dispensed in Harvey Penick’s Little Red Book, a sports classic that became the best-selling sports book of all time. Yet, beyond the Texas golf courses where Penick happily toiled for the better part of eight decades, few people knew the self-made golf pro who coaxed the best out of countless greats — Tom Kite, Ben Crenshaw, Betsy Rawls, Mickey Wright — all champions who considered Penick their coach and lifelong friend.” – Kevin Robbins, author of Harvey Penick: The Life and Wisdom of the Man Who Wrote the Book on Golf.
