This is what television is for. Live coverage of great sporting events somehow justifies all the gutterstuff. Last night's Ryder Cup victory was up there with Headingly 81, the Rugby World Cup, Redgrave's 5th, United in '99, 2005 Ashes, the London Olympics.
There are people who mix up golf as a game with golf as a social activity (and the stereotype that attaches thereto), and determinedly avoid it, but the sheer dramatic tension - it is so slow (99 percent of a golf game is taken up with walking) - in which every single moment of play is crucial make it not only a great sport to play but also an astonishingly compelling one to watch. The estimable Butch Harmon, one of Sky's commentators, told us last night that we were watching "great theatre" and he was dead right. This was a play with 12 strands to it, and glorious arcs of drama, and drive of narrative. There was even a powerful spectral presence in the form of Seve Ballesteros.
And of course Ian Poulter is a god among men. But then so is Justin Rose. And Martin Kaymer. And Paul Lawrie.... and Jose Maria Olazabal.