Captain Dips Into His Arsenal of Motivational Secret Weapons

He apologized that very night, and he is still apologizing nine years later. Once again yesterday Justin Leonard admitted that, if he were once again watching his 45ft putt drop into the cup at the 17th hole on the final day of the 1999 Ryder Cup, he would not respond by charging down the side of the green to meet the embrace of his team-mates and their supporters while José María Olazábal was still waiting to take his turn.

"I would have done it differently, sure," the 1997 Open champion said yesterday of the hugely controversial incident which sealed the United States' most recent victory in the 81-year-old competition. "But I think you have to keep in mind that there was so much emotion that day and we had so much momentum going, and unfortunately that spilled over into it. It didn't take away from our victory at all but I know, for myself and for anybody that was on that team, we would all have done some things differently."

Some things, but not all. It was, astonishingly, the last time the United States have led any session of the competition, and you can bet that Leonard and his team-mates in Louisville this year would settle for a repeat of the astonishing surge with which the Europeans were overwhelmed on that unforgettable afternoon at Brookline.

He and Phil Mickelson are the only survivors from the team led by Ben Crenshaw, who astonished the media on the Saturday evening of that tournament by coming into a press conference with his team trailing by six points to 10 and musing: "I've got a good feeling about this. That's all I'm going to say."

Among Crenshaw's secret weapons - along with a clip of the George C Scott speech from the film Patton - was George W Bush, then the governor of Texas, Crenshaw's own state. Invited into the team room on the eve of the final battle, Bush delivered a passage from a famous letter written by William Travis, the commander of the besieged Texan forces at the Alamo in 1836.

"I call on you, in the name of liberty, of patriotism, of everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all dispatch," Bush read. "If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due his honor and that of his country."

Front-loading his singles selection the following day, Crenshaw was able to watch his strongest players mow down their opponents, including three European rookies who had not been called into action in the opening foursomes and four-balls. His on-course tactics and his psychological strategy had paid off.

"It was very special, and maybe even more special for me because I'm from the state of Texas," Leonard said yesterday. "Growing up and studying our state history, I know quite a bit about the Alamo." But when asked if such events could play a vital part in motivating the team, he replied: "I think it's just a bonus to the week when things like that happen. I don't think we as players need further motivation. The motivation is already there."

Paul Azinger, this year's captain, has already summoned two external sources of motivation, and one of them is Louisville's most famous son. "Last night we went to the Muhammad Ali Center," Leonard continued, "and it was pretty inspirational to get a sense of what he went through in his life and all the things he did outside of the sports world."

Ali was not there to greet them in person, because of the power cuts caused by the aftermath of Hurricane Ike, but Azinger hopes that a meeting can take place later in the week. Bush, now in the last months of his presidency, is also expected to make an appearance. But perhaps this year's secret weapon will be Lou Holtz, the distinguished former Notre Dame football coach, who was expected in the team room last night. When he took over a struggling side at the Indiana college in the mid-80s he ordered the players' names to be removed from their jerseys in order, he said, to re-establish a team ethic. He took them to a national championship within two years and the names have never reappeared.

The task of persuading America's golfing multimillionaires to submerge their egos has never been an easy one, and getting them to take their names off their golf bags probably won't be enough to do the trick. But what Crenshaw managed in 1999, with the aid of a couple of dead soldiers, a Hollywood actor and a future president, is exactly what the combative Azinger will be aiming for this weekend.