On the first weekend of October, smack dab in the middle of Minnesota, proud hordes of grown men got up early, chugged their coffee, and cheerfully dressed up as America’s national bird. They sported sharp-eyed bald-eagle masks and capes resembling American flags; others, meanwhile, donned Stars and Stripes kilts, wore patriotic Viking helmets, or simply slathered “USA” in bright red paint upon their chests.
Crowds thronged. National treasure Bill Murray sauntered in — unobtrusively, as he tends to do — wearing a floppy bucket hat in red, white, and blue. Soon, as if by magic, he was leading the crowd in a massive, delirious chant of “America!” Then, over the course of three days, over a sprawl of green and hundreds of satisfying golf-ball thwacks, the Americans dominated the Europeans and won the Ryder Cup.
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