DAWN BROKE ACROSS the first tee at Bethpage Black to the sound of nothing much at all.
The stands were full more than an hour before the first tee shot, queueing through the additional airport-style screening on the course ahead of Donald Trump’s lunchtime arrival.
But the much-hyped amphitheatre was oddly stilted and flat, with the DJ’s soporific music filling the dismal quiet. The American fans, you realise, are very short on chants, beyond the standard YOO ESS EHH. There were a couple of mournful renditions of the American anthem as the minutes ticked down to lift-off. Not the kind of tune to kindle a white-hot atmosphere.
New York is the city of self-invention and individualism, so perhaps it’s unsurprising that its people are not laureates of collective chanting.
The European fans whack-a-moled across the grandstands instead managed to sustain a few discrete chants, with Shane Lowry grinning in response to a rendition of “Is this is a library?”
As the first tee box filled up with vice-captains, benched players and assorted hangers-on, a chant of “We want Bryson” went around the grandstands, and soon he emerged with playing partner Justin Thomas, an American flag draped over their shoulders; fluttering behind them as they bounded to the first tee like the veil of the corpse bride.
Jon Rahm and Tyrrell Hatton soon emerged to a round of jeers, with one fan yelling that this was a match against Rahm and his little brother. This was the cadence of the supposedly hostile crowd: long periods of white noise interrupted by a lusty insult.
Rahm was first to tee off and sent his drive too far right, directed all the way by the thousands of fans behind him. DeChambeau then turned to eyeball the crowd, spun around and ripped a monstrous drive to the front of the green. Bryson and Thomas would win the first hole and draw out the loudest cheer of the morning.
The crowd were as motivated by spite for Rory McIlroy as they were love for DeChambeau. He was jeered when his face appeared on the big screen when still at the driving range, and the boos followed him all the way to the first tee. Tommy Fleetwood crooked his arm around McIlroy’s shoulder as they stood for their pre-round photo to another wall of hostility, and chants of “F**k you Rory.”
An Irish fan raised a tricolour in the stand, to which an American fan shot back: “Put your flag down, he’s not even Irish!”
McIlroy was magnificently unmoved by it all. He took the same, aggressive line over the trees as Bryson had. And like Bryson, McIlroy poured in a putt to win the hole. He pumped his first and then walked off through another tunnel of noise with a steely glare, directed right ahead. An enormous entourage scurried along behind him, with JP McManus, John Kiely, and Dermot Desmond among them. McManus gamely laughed when an Irish fan yelled at him, looking for a tip at Listowel.
The local hostility to McIlroy could not survive their awesome play. He and Fleetwood monstered Harris English and Collin Morikawa, winning four of the first six holes, shooting four-under between them.
One burly American fan, his face shimmering with sweat and with an American flag caped around him, ran after McIlroy down the fifth fairway, yelling “I’m gonna be in your head all day Rory! All! Damn! Day!”
McIlroy and Fleetwood won the fifth hole, and we spotted the same fan walking the opposite way down the sixth fairway, beaten already. The European duo won the sixth hole too. Our friend may have trooped towards the bars. One factor responsible for the zestless morning atmosphere was the fact the gates opened at 5am but the bars did not open until 9am. Countdowns from thirsty crowds were heard around the course during the final seconds of the day’s prohibition.
Some European fans were disappointed by the lack of American noise, with one English fan doing his best to rally the home crowd with shouts of “Come on, there’s not that much blue on the board!”
McIlroy continued to walk serenely through the staccato abuse hurled his way, much of which were taunts about Pinehurst and choking. Lads, did ye not see the Masters? He’s well past that now.
English and Morikawa rallied somewhat during the fag-end of their match, actually winning the ninth hole. They dragged things to the 14th green, where the adjacent leaderboard blinked with Europe’s first point: Rahm and Hatton had recovered to down DeChambeau and Thomas. Tommy Fleetwood had to knock in a putt to instantly double that advantage, and as he stood over it, McIlroy turned to face the grandstand behind the green, holding his gaze as Fleetwood holed out.
He pumped his fists and then wheeled around to swallow his playing partner in a generous hug.
An American fan in the grandstand above as heard saying, “USA, anyone?”
Written by Gavin Cooney and originally published on The 42 whose award-winning team produces original content that you won’t find anywhere else: on GAA, League of Ireland, women’s sport and boxing, as well as our game-changing rugby coverage, all with an Irish eye. Subscribe here.