In this extract from his new book, Philip Reid walks us through Padraig Harrington's early preparations and ambitions for the 2006 Ryder Cup
The skyline of Dublin's Docklands bore testimony to a changing city; a backdrop of towering cranes where office blocks and apartments are replacing old gasworks and warehouses at a pace unprecedented in the city's long and rich history. One cool morning, in the very early days of a new year, a man who was instantly recognisable to those gathered on the dockside emerged from one of those new company headquarters that have sprouted up along by the River Liffey, the waterway that runs through Ireland's capital city.
The man was holding a gold trophy and, as he left the offices of communications company O2 and walked across the road at Sir John Rogerson's Quay, the sight of the Ryder Cup in Padraig Harrington's hands was enough to literally bring all quayside traffic to a standstill.
Cars were abandoned by the side of the road, drivers leaving them so that they could crowd around, uninvited, on the photo-shoot that had the golfer cradling the most cherished trophy in international team golf as if it were a newborn baby. His pose was that of a protective guardian, unwilling to let the cherished cup, with the likeness of Abe Mitchell - an artisan turned professional golfer - at its apex, leave his grasp.
Suddenly, the crowd of onlookers swelled. Those who had deserted their vehicles were joined by a number of naval personnel who had vacated the Irish Navy's flagship vessel, the LE Eithne, docked nearby and scheduled to leave shortly afterwards on a transatlantic trip to Argentina to honour Admiral William Brown, the Irish-born founder of that country's navy.
The crowd got steadily larger, as still others deserted their morning coffees to join the throng. It was a remarkable scene.
Through it all, all of this gentle madness and organised mayhem, Harrington stood by the waterside, wearing his trademark grin. Inside, you wonder, was his stomach churning? If the mere presence of the Ryder Cup on a quayside nine months before the encounter between Europe and the United States was sufficient to cause such a reaction, what would it be like at the actual match?
For Harrington, an Irish sporting icon, the craziness of this scene on the dockside was not unexpected. He knew how the Irish, more than any other nation, idolised sporting heroes. He knew that each one of those gathered on this dockside expected him to be a part of the Ryder Cup. He also knew that, on that day in January, he was far from assured of a place on the European Team. He knew he had a lot of catching up to do if he was to qualify. There was work to be done.
Padraig Harrington's young son, Patrick, was watching children's television. Power Rangers. The doorway from the TV room to the kitchen was open and Harrington's wife, Caroline, was manoeuvring a wok on the cooker while keeping an eye on her child. She emptied a sachet of fresh noodles into the pan and, with a sense of perfect timing, Harrington arrived to take a stool at the counter. Lunch was served.
When lunch - finished off with ice cream - was over, Harrington led the way to the basement which houses a gym with all the latest equipment and a games room with snooker table and pinball machine, among other things, to keep his mind occupied. Also in this part of the house is an office whose shelves are lined with books; History, Sport, Biographies; but mainly History.
In the safety of his neat and tidy office in his home in Rathmichael in the foothills of the Dublin mountains, Harrington - a member of Europe's Ryder Cup team in 1999, 2002 and 2004 - was in Ryder Cup mode, even if the match itself was months away and he had some work to do before he was guaranteed a place on the team.
"I've a lot to do to qualify, to get in the team," acknowledged Harrington, who, at that moment in time, was 13th in the world points list and 12th in the European points list, the two means of obtaining an automatic place on Ian Woosnam's team.
As things stood, Harrington was not yet on the team. But he knew that the 2006 season was about more than the match. "If all I did this year was make the Ryder Cup team, it would obviously be a disappointing year."
He sat back in his leather chair as the 17th-ranked player in the official world golf rankings. At one point in 2004, he had reached as high a ranking as sixth. He sat there as a player who delayed a move into the professional ranks so that he could complete his accountancy studies.
As a young boy growing up, Harrington had demonstrated terrific sporting ability. His father, Paddy, who died in July of 2005, just days before the British Open at St Andrews, had played in two All-Ireland football finals in the 1950s with his native Cork. His son Padraig inherited some of that footballing acumen. He even captained his school team in a final in Croke Park, where an encounter with a young, blonde footballer from Glasnevin called Dessie Farrell confirmed that his future lay in golf and not Gaelic football.
Another story goes that, one time, he went on a school trip to New York to play football and came back with a cup for Irish dancing. The cultural input, it seems, came from his mother, Breda. Michael Flatley was not to have anything to fear, however. Life on stage was not something that Harrington would pursue.
Instead, it was the golfing bug that infiltrated his sporting psyche more than any other. His dad, a policeman, was one of the founding members of Stackstown Golf Club in the foothills of the Dublin Mountains and it was here that the young Padraig was first introduced, at the age of four, to the sport that was to become his livelihood. He represented Ireland at all levels in amateur golf, building a reputation as a gritty competitor; a player who knew the importance of getting the ball into the hole in as few strokes as possible.
The young Harrington was always seen as ultra-competitive, which was no bad thing. Whether it was competing at marbles on the streets outside his home in Rathfarnham, or on the football pitch or, especially, on the golf course, Harrington always wanted to win.
It's a trait that was inbuilt by being the youngest of five brothers. As an amateur golfer, Harrington got his first taste of playing against the United States when selected on the Britain and Ireland team for the Walker Cup match in 1991. He was to play in the match again in 1993 and 1995; but the 1991 match was different. Not only was it his debut, the match was played in Portmarnock, a links course on Dublin's northern coastline. The match attracted record numbers of spectators and, although the United States won, Harrington was given an early foretaste of what such spectacles meant to the golfing public.
Times have changed for Harrington in the decade and a half since he first donned the Britain & Ireland sweater and faced a team that included Phil Mickelson on the links at Portmarnock. He was 24, a fully qualified accountant, when he made the move. If he took his time ascending into the professional ranks, it didn't take him long to make an impact. When he won his first cheque at a tournament in South Africa, a sum equivalent to about €1,800, he phoned home to tell his parents that they "were giving money away".
Weeks later, in his ninth tournament of his rookie season on the PGA European Tour in 1996, Harrington won the Spanish Open. From someone who had joined the tour content to be little more than a journeyman, he had raised the bar for himself; and also raised his expectations and that of others. He had moved from the shadows into the sun, and life for him would never be the same again.
As Harrington rested his elbows on the desk in his office on that January afternoon, he did so as Ireland's highest-profile international sportsman. In his time competing as a professional on the golf courses of the world, he has won 15 tournaments and accumulated in excess of €16 million in prize-money. He has also racked up a disproportionate number of runner-up finishes, but, hey, worse things could happen in life.
He has done well. He has a beautiful wife; a lovely child; a fine house in the Dublin foothills, with his own short-game practice area and a number of golf holes that he himself designed. Golf itself is a selfish sport, but the Ryder Cup - two teams, 12 men from Europe against 12 men from the United States - is different. Players bond, competing not only for themselves, but for entire continents.
Harrington, perhaps more than anyone, knew what playing host to the Ryder Cup meant to Ireland. One of his sponsors was Fáilte Ireland, the Irish Tourism Board, and part of the player's remit was to entice golfing tourists to Ireland, which in 2005 won the International Destination of the Year from the International Golf Tour Operators Association.
It was a sell close to Harrington's heart, simply because he firmly believes in the product.
If anything, Harrington felt part of his problem throughout 2006 would be in separating the Ryder Cup hype from the week-in, week-out demands of actual tournament play.
Speaking to him at the time, he said: "I can't allow myself to get involved in all the hype, that excitement of the Ryder Cup. As players, we'd never perform and make the team if we got involved in the hype. We have to play our own individual tournaments, one by one, and not get caught up in the hype. You have to worry about yourself and what you are doing, and not to worry about the bigger picture.
"But it will be interesting to see how I cope during the season, to see how I can deflect some of the attention away from myself so that I am not getting too hyped up about the Ryder Cup when I am trying to compete in other events."
Ask Harrington about the attractions of an Irish golfing vacation for overseas visitors, and his answer is unequivocal.
"The people. That's the number one attraction," he said. "We've obviously got fantastic golf courses. We've great places to stay. We've great culture. We've great entertainment. But the best thing about Ireland is its people, the relaxed atmosphere. The people enjoy themselves. They're easy-going, friendly, helpful. It is what will make the Ryder Cup in Ireland so special.
"I think people coming to Ireland from the United States will find it amazing that the man in the street, not just golf enthusiasts, will be talking about the Ryder Cup and they'll be truly interested in it. Everyone will be talking about it: housewives, working men, everyone. The whole country will be into it, which will be crazy. You won't be able to get away from it."
On that January afternoon, Harrington, for one, believed Europe would have their hands full if a third successive Ryder Cup victory over the United States was to be claimed in his homeland.
"To be honest, we couldn't have picked a better venue for the Americans. I mean, we've got a US style golf course designed by Arnold Palmer. They are staying on site in a magnificent hotel where many of them have stayed before. If we were going to pick a venue to negate home advantage, that's where you would pick it; and if you were going to pick a country to negate home advantage, Ireland would be it too.
"We Irish have quite an affinity with the US. A lot of the Americans travelling over here will have Irish backgrounds. I think a lot of the Irish supporters will support the European team strongly, but will be very encouraging and respectful of the US team. Many Irish golf fans are particular fans of the American players, of Tiger and Phil, and many others.
"They would all get a good welcome."
His talk was of someone who fully expected to be part of the European team. This was only January, a time when he was preparing for a new campaign after a winter's mix of rest and on-going work on his swing, so he was entitled to be optimistic.
In the end, the wait to secure his place would mathematically go all the way to the last qualifying event, the BMW International in Munich.
Calm before the Storm . . . Dublin, January 2006
