I Expected Chaos at the Ryder Cup but Was Struck by Corporate Polish

“That shot,” the man said, “was poo!”

His jeer came during the afternoon matches on the first day of competition at the Ryder Cup, from within a crush of spectators craning their necks to see the 14th hole. The days before the event, friends and colleagues warned me, a golf novice, to expect the kind of taunting and rowdiness that ended up making headlines as the tournament progressed.

Between the Long Island crowds, fierce national pride, and President Donald Trump’s attendance, I prepared myself for mild anarchy at the biennial tournament between the US and Europe. So what stood out instead was the business presence — corporate sponsors like BMW, Rolex, and Citi that use the event to invite clients from around the globe to sit in special boxes and chat about deals.

I first saw the corporate hospitality tents in a social media post criticizing how they made it hard for ordinary ticketholders to watch the golf matches, which turned out to be pretty true. Though I never stepped inside one of the branded oases, they clearly offered shade on a nearly 80-degree day, seats, and uninterrupted views. I wondered what food they got, compared to the free baseball stadium-style offerings that come with a standard entrance.

The corporate draw makes sense. Despite the tour’s reputation for rowdiness, it attracts a well-heeled crowd. The standard ticket costs $749.51 — and that’s without any special perks and privileges. A typical attendee coming from New York could expect to spend closer to $1,255 in a single day, by my calculations. Beyond its sheer price, the event has become a widely recognized status symbol for corporations and their guests alike.

“People go to be seen,” Tom Cerasoli, the head of sponsorship and partnership management at Citi, told me. “It’s like, who are we hosting, who are they hosting, and just looking around at each other.”

Sponsorship is everywhere

My experience was closer to that of the average ticket holder. I arrived in Farmingdale, Long Island, around 7:35 am and lined up to board shuttles to the Bethpage Black golf course, surrounded by men (they seemed to outnumber women around eight to one) clad in the predictable polo, sneakers, and, for the boldest, head-to-toe American or European Union flag outfits.

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Messiness defined the journey, at least to an extent: the two-ish-mile drive took almost an hour with the traffic, and I watched those walking in envy.

There were signs of light rowdiness by the time I entered the course just before 9, with cheers erupting sporadically and some already clutching beers. I used a porta-potty marked “women only” at 11:40, which still had pee all over the seat and no toilet paper. A woman behind me mumbled to herself about the smell.

At the same time, official sponsors and suppliers’ names dotted nearly every sign and experience. I overheard a few conversations about deals and prices, but the real networking seemed to take place mainly in the corporate hospitality tents. Cerasoli said the event is key to maintaining strong relationships, and that some legitimate business talk is sprinkled in.

Cerasoli and I spoke from a set of bleachers reserved for guests of the “Worldwide Partners,” which offered a prime view of the first and last holes. He didn’t share how much Citi spent on the Ryder Cup (“enough”) or how many tickets they gave out (“not enough”), but said that this tournament is geared toward the upper echelons of wealth and institutional clients.

“We’ve invested at a level that reflects how important this partnership is to our clients and our brand,” he told me in a follow-up email. Given the Ryder Cup’s popularity, there was no way to have enough tickets for everyone, he said. Success for Citi’s institutional wealth side essentially means having clients do more business with the bank.

Financial institutions increasingly understand the power of sponsorship, said Cerasoli, who has worked in the sponsorship industry for 20 years. The landscape has gotten stiffer, and he said Citi was mindful of inviting the important clients before competitors had the chance.

The view outside the corporate tent

I couldn’t view the afternoon matches from Citi’s special area, so I joined the masses without a spot in a corporate tent. As I waited amid the sweaty, patriotic throng trying to see the course, Americanah classics blared from the loudspeakers. When the president walked out, the people around me gave him a warm welcome.

By the evening, cheers and boos continued as America struggled through its matches, but apart from those crunched together near the golf itself, plenty of others also lay in the grass, sun-drunk and just normal drunk. Around 4:30 pm, many crowded onto a hill, watching the final swings on a jumbo screen instead of the course.

I left around 5:45 pm and sat next to a man on the Long Island Rail Road who had attended with friends. Looking tired and smelling mildly of beer, he showed me his $430 receipt from the merch tent. He’d bought tickets for all three days of the competition, but didn’t plan on returning — the logistics and crowds, he said, were just too annoying.

Looking out the window, he oscillated between complaining about the traffic and long lines and reaffirming that, yes, it had been a really fun day.

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or trying to convince himself.