Lynch: Europe’s chatter about pay-for-play at Ryder Cup only pays off if the U.S. falters

There’s a fine, upturned line between a smile and a smirk, and it varied which Patrick Cantlay wore during his Ryder Cup press conference, which was understandable since he spent much of the session fielding media questions about the pay-for-play brouhaha that swirled around him two years ago in Rome. Back then, scuttlebutt suggested Cantlay wouldn’t wear a Team USA hat because he wasn’t being paid for his week’s labor in Italy. When asked at the time about his missing headgear, Cantlay said simply, “It didn’t fit,” leaving unmentioned whether it didn’t fit his cranium or his business agenda. 

In the lengthy run-up to the 45th Ryder Cup matches in New York, the Europeans have been artfully keeping the cash grab storyline alive. 

“I would personally pay to play in the Ryder Cup,” Rory McIlroy said 10 months ago, shortly after it was announced that U.S. team members will each now receive $500,000, sixty percent of which will go to charity with the remainder to do with as they see fit (previously 200-large was donated to charity in the player’s name). 

Ever since, McIlroy’s colleagues have been lashing themselves to the cross, proclaiming their unpaid loyalty to team and flag, carefully cultivating an image of guys who get it versus guys who don’t. “This isn’t a week to get paid,” Europe’s captain, Luke Donald, said, his earnest expression intended to convey a principled embarrassment for his opposite number, Keegan Bradley, who is forced to handle housekeeping payments in public.

That Europe is encouraging the cash grab narrative is neither surprising nor unsporting. Why not seed a public perception that for some on the U.S. team — not all, just a few (wink, wink) — patriotism is just another revenue stream? After all, with the unrelenting focus on money in men’s professional golf over the last few years, there’s not exactly a deep well of sympathy for those tarred with the greed brush. With all of the lucrative changes around the PGA Tour, from enormous purses to equity grants to bonuses, Cantlay has been at the center as a player-director on the Policy Board. Alert fans don’t need help drawing a crayon line from Ponte Vedra to Bethpage. 

When Cantlay wore a hat to his press conference, it led to an inquiry about whether he was sending a message. “No, not at all. Like I've said a million times, the hat didn't fit last year, and this year we worked with them to make sure we had one, and we got one, so we're good,” he replied, the thin smile unwavering. 

Asked where his $500,000 will be going, Cantlay cited first responder causes and a junior golf organization in Southern California. “If I can give back to organizations that have helped make me who I am today, hopefully someone growing up in Southern California gets that opportunity and can follow their dreams as well,” he said.

“Did you make representations to the PGA of America about … ”  

He cut the question off before it reached its obvious destination. “Oh, no. I was a late addition captain's pick,” he shot back. “That’s the PGA of America's decision, and I know they worked together with Keegan.” 

Cantlay’s implication — that he would have voiced no opinion on the matter of paying players until he was chosen by Bradley on August 27, by which point it was already settled — is a neat bit of bobbing and weaving, given that the conversations and/or pressure campaigns about pay-for-play long predate the last few weeks.  

“I wasn't a part of that decision-making process. I don't think any of the team members were. I can only speak for what my plans are,” he repeated when the topic surfaced again later. 

What Cantlay knows but won’t say is that it’s easy for the Europeans to posture about money because paying the guys in blue isn’t an option. If you tally up a dozen players, the skipper and his five vice-captains, that’s $9 million the PGA of America is willing to spend to extinguish the issue. For those who own the other half of the Ryder Cup, chiefly the European Tour, that number would blow an enormous hole in crucial revenue that underpins operations for the entire circuit. Europe hasn’t offered to pay its players for a reason, and it's nothing to do with purity of purpose. Donald saying that his guys think it's not a week to be paid is a little like a pimply teenager telling a supermodel that he won’t be reciprocating overtures that aren’t coming. 

Generations of immigration and cheap airfares will ensure no shortage of European fans this week, but the goal of stoking the money conversation is to flip the home fans if circumstances allow. New York sports fans are vocal, belligerent and utterly relentless. Any athlete who ever made a living around here knows they’re not above jeering their own, especially if they believe they ain’t getting their money’s worth. Or, in this instance, if they think their team isn’t delivering on what they’re being paid. 

What Europe is doing is a little gamesmanship. They know fans have paid astronomical freight for tickets and will hand over up to $19 for a beer (which might impact the level of drunken hollering by sundown). It all makes for a potentially receptive audience to hoots about money grubbers if Bradley’s players fall behind. Europe has laid the table for the rudest fan base in sport. The performance of the American team will determine whether or not they feast, and upon whom.