Ryder Cup 2018: Could Team USA's stratospheric egos swing the balance away from their superior talent?

For all Europe’s external squabbling, it’s the American’s internal estrangements which may become a great asset to the home side

The golfing armadas of kingdom and continent combined six years after Britain joined the European Union and the Ryder Cup as we know it was born. But now, a spurious theory floats the Channel that Brexit will somehow divide the locker room.

That Thomas Bjorn desperately attempts to umpire rallies fuelled by Tyrrell Hatton’s bitter and Francesco Molinari’s Barolo. That the two factions wrangle at locker room summits as Ian Poulter attempts to orchestrate a free-trade deal in the opposing dressing room to attain cut-price clubheads.

But as entertaining as the thought of Rory McIlroy attempting to smuggle booze across the Irish border might be, it’s a canard given far more breath than it deserves. In fact, for all Europe’s external squabbling, it’s the American’s internal estrangements which may become a great asset to the home side.

One such example of the US’ serrated friendships came as recently as last week when the PGA Player of the Year to be, Brooks Koepka, launched into an ugly diatribe having been overlooked for interviews prior to the season-culminating Tour Championship.

“I don’t need to kiss anyone’s butt…” he told an on-course reporter. “I don’t need to bend over backwards to be friends with anyone [in the media], but certain guys do that because they want their names written.”

Considering Koepka has won two of the year’s four majors his grievances would have been justified had the tactless volley not indirectly earmarked his Ryder Cup teammates who had spoken to the media - Justin Thomas, Dustin Johnson, Bryson DeChambeau, Tony Finau and, of course, Tiger Woods.

The fermented insecurities amongst America’s golfers inadvertently stems from Woods himself. At his peak, he emitted a euphoria of attention to those around him but in his absence there was a vacuum of charisma.

The next generation of golfers were forced to jostle under an ever-shrinking spotlight and bitterness brewed. Jordan Spieth established himself as Woods’ golden-haired heir but by the time his potato salad was served alongside a Texas barbecue at the Masters champion’s dinner in 2016, more than the odd chip had been indulged elsewhere.

Patrick Reed in particular appears to have dipped into the ketchup. Earlier this year, he flippantly jested that Spieth receives preferential treatment to a rules official and later admonished the PGA for his inferior view at a complimentary baseball game. And now having partnered Spieth at both Ryder Cup’s the pair have played thus far he has frequently aired his desires to leave that relationship and waltz with Woods along the Seine.

Then there are the team’s other peculiar fraternities, or lack thereof. Take the Bubba Watson paradox. A church-going philanthropist yet allegedly the most disliked player on Tour. Or Dustin Johnson who, like Koepka, prefers to spend his days under the secluded guillotine of a bench press.

Rickie Fowler and Webb Simpson will be synthesising presences but there is still a distinct lack of cohesion across the Atlantic. The fact that the rekindled relationship between Woods and Mickelson, only spawned for the sake of a $10 million exhibition match, is one of the US’ steadiest relationships verges on vaudeville.

Team USA are juggling some big personalities (AFP/Getty)

The inevitable problem in an orgy of such starlight is that nobody wants to sit in the shade. In 2016, Brandt Snedeker, Zach Johnson, Jimmy Walker, Ryan Moore and Matt Kuchar diluted the cauldron of egomania and the formula was a success - Spieth, Koepka, Reed and Mickelson all took at least 2.5 points en route to victory at Hazeltine. Whether Jim Furyk can transform this year's surfeit of prima donnas into a cohesive unit will be his greatest challenge.

The Europeans are amicable and stabilising siblings. Yes, there’s the royalty of Rory and Rose, the fire of father and son Spaniards Sergio and Rahm, the tempers of Poulter and Hatton. But they’re married with the cool temperaments of Tommy Fleetwood, Francesco Molinari, Henrik Stenson, Alex Noren and Paul Casey and the latter are still imperious golfers rather than a buttressing B-team.

The Americans are mired in the dyspepsia of their own conflicting characters. Will it be enough to swing the balance from such an exceptionally talented team? After all, how many times have we seen lesser-skilled players trounce inflated egos.