Caddie's Role: My old boss, the astute Greg Turner from New Zealand, was always aware of his capabilities and limitations as a golfer. This invaluable asset enabled him to make sensible decisions based on realistic capabilities on the course. It was also an important psychological weapon when faced with situations outside the weekly comfort zones.

Greg understood that he was not as good as the top players of his age, week in week out, but on any given day he was capable of beating even the best. He recognised when he was in form and he was not afraid of it. This was part of the cycle of being a regular golf professional. Greg was an average golfer in comparison to the US Tour leaders or Major champions. But he did contend and win events in the 1990s when "his" week came, and he relished its arrival.

It's probably Greg's voice echoing in my head every time I have looked at the Ryder Cup permutations. Quite naturally, the sole reason the world seemed to think it should be no contest was because of the strength of the Americans - on paper. The US team comprised superstars. The Europeans? Well, just good golfers.

Any player within the top 100 on the world rankings will, on any given day, have as good a chance as the rest of beating a superstar over 18 holes. But over 72 holes the odds change dramatically. The bounces, the sudden wind switch, the lip-outs, the confidence that can engulf a player in a round, can prove decisive over 18 holes.

It is unlikely a player in 90th position in the world rankings will beat a top-10 player in a four-round tournament played on a good golf course, although it does happen. But normally the top-10 player will succeed.

This is the way it is, and there should be no mystery attached to the fact that Europe have beaten America in four of the last five Ryder Cups.

When the world and, in particular, America learns a bit of humility and recognises the reality of one-round matchplay events, where there is a levelling of talent and the shape of the fairway is changed, so to speak, the expectations for future matches will be more realistic.

While there has been much soul-searching on the part of the Americans, there has been much praise heaped upon the victorious Europeans.

The consensus seems to be that the Europeans gelled as a team; the whole was greater than the individual parts. It is hard to explain why one group of traditionally egocentric golfers should adapt so comfortably to the team role. A little background on how the US and European tours work may throw some light upon the matter.

In Europe, the players tend to socialise together during the average tournament. Many travel on the same flights or stay in the same hotels, and for most events there are official coaches that run from the hotel to the course. Often the atmosphere on the buses can be quite festive - a bit like on the school outing. So, away from the locker-rooms and golf course, our players are used to being in each other's company.

The whole infrastructure of the European Tour is more sociable than its American counterpart.

This is not to say there are not enclaves set up within Europe. The Scots tend to stick together when it comes to dining at night; the Spanish have their favourite haunts, as do the Germans.

Huge cultural differences do exist, and food is one of the areas where those differences are exposed. Try getting an English player to spend two hours over lunch and then sit down to start dinner at 9.30 later that evening. Naturally, the Spanish have their special eating habits that don't suit those from Northern Europe.

So it is not that the tour is homogenised; there are serious differences.

But the players from all corners of the European Tour are more accustomed to compromise. The tour is an exercise in concession. So when these individuals from different countries are asked to come together for a week and play under the one flag with no emphasis or prejudice given to anyone, it is not such a huge ordeal. It is just an extension of the weekly routine on tour.

This, of course, is not the case in America. The chances are that many of the players will arrive in a private jet, jump into a courtesy car and drive to their hotel and from there to the course.

The only interaction for many will be in the locker-room or on the range. Beyond that, many of the US players are totally isolated from each other. These players are not used to compromise.

They are rarely asked to do so at any stage of their professional careers. So naturally the concept of the Ryder Cup, where so much is rightly asked of the player to act solely as a unit of a bigger concern, does not come so easily to the Americans.

Then again, the Ryder Cup is, after all, just one out of 104 weeks. Some may argue that it is not worth the break in routine of weekly self-obsession to satisfy some over-hyped team nonsense. After all, a member of the US Tour will probably win this week and fly back home with his family on his private jet and move up even higher on the world rankings. Sam's old cup on the other side of the Atlantic may well be a trophy that is not worth the interruption to an otherwise extremely comfortable existence.

After all, professional golf is about winning money, and the unsuccessful US Ryder Cup team have won plenty and will continue to do so.