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You see the European Ryder Cup team celebrating another victory — whether it's in Ireland or England or Spain or the United States — and the boys always look like one big happy family, right? There's Sergio Garcia of Spain, singing from a balcony, waving a flag, his arm around one of his mates. There's Padraig Harrington of Ireland taking a swig from a magnum of Moet, then passing the dark-green bottle down the line.
Those chummy Euros. And then came Sunday night at the links of Carnoustie, another Scottish muni that is bleak and severe and oddly inviting, just like the old one in St. Andrews. That's when Harrington, 35, and Garcia, 27 — tied at seven-under-par 277 at the end of regulation — played a four-hole playoff for the most important title in the global village of golf: Open champion.
When Garcia and Harrington gathered on the 1st tee for the playoff, each man looking to win his first major, they exchanged a quick and meager handshake. If there was peace, love and understanding on that tee, you couldn't feel it.
About 40 minutes after the playoff began, the two protagonists were on the 18th tee for the final hole, Harrington up by two shots. As the Dubliner stood over his tee shot, he saw Garcia standing almost on the right tee marker. Crowding the player is a classic Ryder Cup move. Harrington, tense but composed, asked Garcia for some space. Playing like the accountant he once studied to be, he then proceeded to turn the 499-yard par-4 into a three-shotter and with a closing bogey won the playoff, and the championship, by a stroke.
At the awards ceremony afterward, Harrington, a man with a goofy smile and an endearing earnestness, did not praise Garcia for his sustained and excellent play — the Spaniard led after each of the first three rounds and took a three-shot edge into Sunday. The Irishman, who began the final round trailing by six, simply said Garcia's day would come.
"He's a young lad," said Harrington, the first Irish winner of the Open since Fred Daly in 1947. The subdued crowd — Sunday on the Angus coast was cool and gray, and few of the menfolk had been drinking — laughed benignly.
As Harrington lifted the claret jug — and as his wife of 10 years, Caroline, chased their three-year-old son, Patrick, across the 18th green — the reputations of two men rose with it. Harrington, of course, will be looked at with newfound respect, but the other man looking better is the Frenchman Jean Van de Velde, who screwed up so royally at Carnoustie in 1999.
It's not just that we now really understand the curse of Carnoustie's home hole, but we also can now fully appreciate the Gallic charm and poise with which Van de Velde handled his collapse.
Garcia blamed his bogey finish at the 72nd hole on bad luck, slow play and a greater plan. ("It wasn't meant to be," he said.) Eight years ago Van de Velde, who is not playing now because of an undisclosed illness, told reporters, "Don't look so sad."
On Sunday night Garcia sarcastically told the throng, "I'm thrilled." His pain was perhaps understandable. He had been a king for three days.
Phil Mickelson used to have the damn-me-with-faint-praise title as the best golfer never to have won a major, and then he went on a Tigeresque tear, winning three majors in two years. (He missed the cut at Carnoustie, and don't be surprised if he shuts down his season after the PGA Championship next month, skipping the Presidents Cup and all the season — ending FedEx Cup events to fully rest his strained left wrist.)
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