An unlikely thing happened at tea time on Friday at Valhalla Golf Course.
The Ryder Cup, one of the ultimate team events, was taken over by an individual, and he wasn't called Padraig, Sergio or Phil.
He was a chap called Thomas Brent Weekley, better known as Boo.
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I'll be honest, my greatest sporting dream came true in Louisville last night and it had little to do with golf.
I shook hands with Muhammad Ali and I haven't stopped smiling since.
For a brief second, I had in my hand, the right that dropped Sonny Liston and George Foreman and he had in his, the palm that conceded a penalty in an 8-2 defeat for UEA's 4th XI in Cardiff.
It wasn't a fair trade, but the occasion was not about what the champ could take from us. It was a surprisingly humble and informal welcome from Louisville's "Greatest" to all Ryder Cup visitors.
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"Why can't they all get to know each other? I will give £5 to each of the winning players, and give a party afterwards, with champagne and chicken sandwiches."
Thus spoke Samuel Ryder whilst watching an unofficial international match between the Americans and British at Wentworth in 1926. And a year later, the first official Ryder Cup match-up took place.
With words like those, it was pretty much destiny that the Ryder Cup would one day find its way to Louisville, Kentucky.
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