Mary Wilson has a really good voice for reporting from the High Court, or the Supreme Court or wherever it is she used to report from. She had to be heard over the din of Dublin, expectedly enough for any outdoor correspondent.

Now she is in a quiet calm radio studio and she is still talking/reporting in the same tone of voice that she used to use when outdoors. It is, quite frankly, headache inducing.

In the old days of Rachel English’s dulcet tones, I used to happily listen to Five Seven Live (incidentally, a much better, more original name than “Drivetime”) for the two hours it took me to get to DCU, which incidentally was the two hours it was on for.

Now, I have a ten minute commute, and I cannot listen to Mary Wilson for more than two. I hear her and off the radio goes.

Thanks Mary, but I don’t need the headache. Bring back Rachel English, or someone with nicer tones.  Ana Leddy, whatever about Rattlebag, Mary Wilson is a mistake. I’m off to another station.

That was pretty sweet stuff. It just doesn’t get better. Although, perhaps it might have been nice to see a more evenly contested final day.

Paul Mc Ginley haved his match, showing what good sports Europe are. JJ Henry probably couldn’t believe his luck.

Then, you had the ASSHOLE Chris de Marco behaving like a spoilt petulant toddler on the 18th hole. Although, it really started on the 17th green. De Marco halves a hole in the last match of the day to finish, the cup already well and truly won and starts fist pumping like it’s the first match of the day, I really couldn’t believe what was happening. (With the fist pumping).

On to the 18th. If you are losing and on the final tee, you drive your ball into the water, then the gentlemanly thing would be to go over to your playing partner and conceed defeat. You do not make the other player (in this case Lee Westwood) who has been comprehensively kicking your butt all day drive his ball down the fairway. You do not then take relief and after hitting the ball into the water for a second time, make your playing partner and opposition again pull out a club to play his ball onto the green (on in two), two unnecessary shots. Then, you do not ignore him and let him walk to the green wondering is this guy going to conceed to me? You could give him the nod long before you get to the green. You could give him the nod, say congratulations, good stuff, sorry you’re not feeling well, congratulations on winning the Ryder Cup e.t.c.

De Marco sums up in a way just why it is that the American team were so comprehensively defeated. For me, he is the essence of why they were defeated in every session.

Lots of people HATE the Ryder Cup. I think these are the same people that had never heard of it perhaps before it came to Ireland. There has been a lot of negative press about the Ryder Cup, about the security, the over the top attitude with regard to ticketing measures, the traffic problems it is causing. Yadda Yadda Yadda. Kathy Sheridan is one such person who lambasted it.

To me, Sheridan’s disdain for the Ryder Cup is quite simple. In my opinion, it comes down to the fact that she simply doesn’t like golf anyway. Bah humbug I say. If a grand slam tennis tournament had the opportunity of being played in Ireland, just once, I think it would have a far greater degree of kind press coverage.

Forget everything surrounding the Ryder Cup for one moment and focus on what you have in the Ryder Cup in its basic terms. It is Golf. Yes, it’s golf, but it’s golf in teams. Yawn, golf, so boring people say. These are probably the same people who say cricket is boring. I love cricket. I love golf. But, far and away above everything else in the golfing world, I LOVE the Ryder Cup. There is just something indescribable about it. Golf in the weeks after the Ryder Cup is such an anti climax.

Tomorrow is Friday, the opening match day. I’d give my right arm to be in the K-Club. To touch the atmosphere. Because, when those players line up on the first tee, you will be able to grab a piece of the atmosphere out of the air, put it in your jam jar, close the lid on the jam jar and savour it for the rest of your days. Metaphorically speaking.

The Ryder Cup is only being broadcast on Sky Sports, and because you can only have Sky if you have Digital NTL, I am off home to watch it. With my parents. Which is as it should be actually. Because, like the New Year’s Day concert from Vienna, the Ryder Cup is to be savoured with the people who exposed you to it in the first place. The people who get it. That would be my parents. My husband doesn’t get the fuss. Mind you, he didn’t get the Munster rugby fuss a few years ago either, and now he is a total rugby convert.

I don’t play golf, I don’t own clubs. I blast balls in the driving range with my father occassionally, that limited experience gives me an appreciation for the skill and the passion that drives the skill on the Ryder Cup match days. You really do witness the most unbelievably special moments (in sporting terms). So special, all the hassle is worth it. Jeez, I’d sit in a traffic jam for three days if I thought there was a Ryder Cup ticket at the end of it.

It’s just magic. I can’t wait. Go Team Europe! Go! Go Woosie! Go Clarke! Go Harrington! Go McGinley! Go Garcia! Go Monty! Go Karlsson! Go Casey! Go Ollie! Go Westwood! Go Donald! Go Stensson! Go Howell!