He’s no show pony. He gimps around the course on a bad knee. His
swing is a comic half-slap, with the club head getting no higher
than his right shoulder (or even his belt) on the backswing. He
developed this swing practicing in his low-ceilinged New England
basement in the wintertime.
Most important, he is tough. How many athletes can you think of
who jumped into their sport’s highest competitive professional
arenas at age 47 — in order to make money, and then did
it?
And he may well be, as Johnny Miller said, the best player in
the world from 100 yards in, where match play golf is won and lost.
Imagine the young Europeans’ chagrin as they got beat, over and
over, by an old geezer.
There is only one Allen Doyle. He should have been a Captain’s
pick for this year’s Ryder Cup team.