The Unifying Theory of American Golfers

Brett Kavanaugh suddenly reminded me of an American Ryder Cup player from the 90s - maybe not of the now, they're a bit different now, more obviously brash and rock starry, less "aah shucks". The 90s guys, the country club guys.

I've had a big feeling about the American golfers for a long time. They turn up in my writing and in my thoughts. It was the "Thanks, Doogie, appreciate it" that started it off. Good guys, real gentlemen. Fuzzy Zoeller with the little racist joke about Tiger Woods. That one sneaked out. Poor form. Whoever leaked it.

Kavanaugh with the rage of the rarely challenged, the weird sentimentality, the love of sports and manly comradeship. He is furious if you don't think he's a good guy. The Battle of Brookline. Kiawah Island.

If you're looking for the guys who've let the world rot, you'll find them at the country club with their warm smiles.

The world is run by American golfers with
their Thanks, appreciate it
their straight lines and high fives
their untouchability
their comedy names
their obscene and disproportionate winnings
their impeccable manners
their inner rage
their sensible knitwear
their charisma bypass
their coat of corporate sponsorship
their military references
their easy smiles and stepford wives
their dignified and insidious racism
their rules they play by till they don't
their unrecognised contempt
their Darn it
their chamber of horrors
their hush money and hypocrisy
their classy class
their principled votes on allowing women members
their free pass, their hand shakes
the world.