NICK RODGER

nose of a baby seal. Kids here, wives there, famous friends everywhere? It’s a cheesy, grinning hodgepodge of white caddie outfits and even whiter tooth enamel. And it’s one golfing rite of spring this scribe will not be pining for.

When the tee-times for the final round of last season’s Scottish Open at The Renaissance were published, the wailing from the golf writers in the media centre was as noisy as a factory of angle grinders.

It was hardly surprising. The leading duo didn’t drive away at the first until 15:58, after all. But that’s what a lucrative television deal with a US broadcaster does.

What our American friends made of a showdown between Bernd Wiesberger and Benjamin Hebert is anybody’s guess but there were was

Who knows where we’ll be in terms of the coronavirus come late September when the Ryder Cup is set to be played.

There has been a suggestion that it could even be played behind closed doors but if any golf event needed the engagement of the fevered masses it’s the Ryder Cup.

Everything is all a bit up in the air, rather like the constant, wearying conjecture which accompanies the build up to a captain’s wild card picks. In this online age, it’s even worse.

“Well, if you ask me I certainly wouldn’t have picked him”, “you’re right, he’s taking a big risk including him”, “but I think he’s made a sensible decision picking him”, “don’t be daft, he should have picked him instead”, “oh sod off, what do you know anyway …”

When it comes to the crunch, skippers have a habit of sticking to the tried and trusted campaigners anyway which, in many ways, bolsters the notion that the Ryder Cup remains something of a cosy old boys network.

Not quite wild cards, more a case of mild cards.