Danny Willett's brother, Pete (P.J.), has turned himself into Public Enemy No. 1 with the bulletin-board material he provided to the American Ryder Cup team -- and, more aptly, the American Ryder Cup fans.
In a Ryder Cup preview column for National Club Golfer in the United Kingdom, Willett outlines that he thinks winning the Ryder Cup comes down to how a captain influences the players, how the players influence each other and how the fans influence the outcome.
Explaining that last part, the fan involvement, is where Willett lays into American fans and the behavior of a stereotypical, albeit rate, fan.
And we'll let him take it from here.
Team USA have only won five of the last 16 Ryder Cups. Four of those five victories have come on home soil. For the Americans to stand a chance of winning, they need their baying mob of imbeciles to caress their egos every step of the way. Like one of those brainless bastards from your childhood, the one that pulled down your shorts during the school’s Christmas assembly, they only have the courage to keg you if they’re backed up by a giggling group of reprobates. Team Europe needs to shut those groupies up.
They need to silence the pudgy, basement-dwelling, irritants, stuffed on cookie dough and pissy beer, pausing between mouthfuls of hotdog so they can scream ‘Baba booey’ until their jelly faces turn red.
They need to stun the angry, unwashed, Make America Great Again swarm, desperately gripping their concealed-carry compensators and belting out a mini-erection inducing ‘mashed potato,’ hoping to impress their cousin.
They need to smash the obnoxious dads, with their shiny teeth, Lego man hair, medicated ex-wives, and resentful children. Squeezed into their cargo shorts and boating shoes, they’ll bellow ‘get in the hole’ whilst high-fiving all the other members of the Dentists’ Big Game Hunt Society.
Whoa. That was savage. And while some might American fans might be offended by his description of them (don't count me as one, he nailed some truths in that), the point remains. For Europe to win on American soil again, they need to take the partisan crowd out of it quickly.
Welp, P.J. Willett made certain that his brother is going to hear nothing but "Baby booey" and "Mashed potatoes" all weekend long.