It wasn't actually the first team competition between pros representing the U.S. and Great Britain. In fact, a couple of losses in informal matches during the Roaring Twenties -- in 1921 at Gleneagles in Scotland and a 13 1/2 to 1 1/2 thumping in 1926 at Wentworth in England -- left the Americans hungry for vengeance.

The Ryder Cup was born shortly after the Wentworth match when one of the victors, George Duncan, remarked to business tycoon Samuel Ryder, a golf fan who had been in the gallery, that an international team match should become a permanent event. Ryder was just the man to parlay the suggestion into reality. He had made a fortune selling seeds in penny packets and numbered among his clients golf courses on both sides of the Atlantic.

A single-handicapper himself, Ryder needed scant coaxing from Duncan. The seed merchant donated a 14-carat gold, 16-inch high trophy, crowned by a golfer cast in the image of Ryder's golf teacher, Abe Mitchell, one of Britain's top professionals.

The victorious 1927 U.S. Ryder Cup team.

The first Ryder Cup Matches were scheduled two weeks before the U.S. Open so the British pros could double up, and Golf Illustrated of London helped pick up the squad's passage to America, a six-day journey by sea.

In the U.S., the PGA ruled that only native-born players were eligible, eliminating such transplanted Scotsmen as Tommy Armour, Bobby Cruickshank, and Jock Hutchison. The team, which came to commonly be referred to as "the homebreds," was led by dapper, charismatic Walter Hagen as player-captain. His colorful and gifted band included Leo Diegel, a fine shotmaker whose bizarre, elbows-out putting style was labeled "Diegeling"; Johnny Farrell, on a run that would net him seven wins in 1927; long-distance driver Bill Mehlhorn; 1922 U.S. Open titleholder Gene Sarazen; Al Watrous, who was second to amateur Bobby Jones in the 1926 British Open; Joe Turnesa, one of seven golfing brothers; and Johnny Golden.

The British team suffered a blow when Mitchell, slated to be the player-captain, was sidelined with appendicitis shortly before the squad was set to sail. He was replaced as captain by Ted Ray, who, although 50 years old, could still outdrive just about anyone and whose loose swing had not stopped him from capturing the 1912 British Open and 1920 U.S. Open.

The great triumvirate from the turn of the century, Harry Vardon, John H. Taylor, and James Braid, now elder statesmen, selected the British team of Ray, Archie Compston, Arthur Havers, Aubrey Boomer, Duncan, Fred Robson, Charles Whitcombe, and Herbert Jolley, who would sail on a later ship as Mitchell's playing substitute.

Shortly after the Aquitania docked at New York on May 27, Ray and company issued a statement to the press that said, in part, "We think our visit will go far to. . .bind the two countries together."

The civilities evaporated as the squads scrutinized each other and the hilly terrain and testing greens of the 6,440-yard, par-70 Worcester Country Club. The format called for 12 matches of 36 holes each -- four foursomes matches on the first day and eight singles matches on the second day.

Many observers concurred that the U.S. was at a disadvantage on the first day due to its unfamiliarity with the alternate-shot format The homebreds proved the experts wrong. On the way to taking a 3-1 lead, Farrell and Turnesa whipped what was supposed to be Britain's best team, Duncan and Compston, by an 8-and-6 margin. By the afternoon, the only match hanging in the balance was the one involving both captains, with Hagen and Golden meeting Ray and Robson.

The same onset of nerves that would bedevil countless Ryder Cup golfers in future matches led to some loose play. Ray, puffing on his ever-present pipe, pounded long drives but left his partner "in terrible places on the course," according to a newspaper account, while Robson blew three putts "not as long as the shaft of his putter" as the Americans won, 2 and 1.

For Hagen, it was not only the match that proved an ordeal. A controversy had flared when he wanted to replace Watrous, suffering from a split thumb, with alternate Al Espinosa. Ray blustered against the substitution, so Watrous padded the thumb and competed in spite of the pain, teaming with Sarazen to win their match.

Hagen also endured the jibes of reporters and publicists complaining that he had been too slow to post his lineup, which he had changed at the last minute because his players weren't satisfied with the original plan. Asked how he liked being captain, Hagen retorted "Never again!"

The matches were well on their way to becoming a commercial success when more than 4,000 spectators showed up the first day. "That brings the gate receipts of the match up to $8,000," wrote William D. Richardson in the New York Times, "and with anything like a good day tomorrow the P.G.A. exchequer should be enhanced appreciably."

The unseasonably cold and gusty conditions of the second day might have made the British team feel at home, but it didn't fuel a comeback. Farrell set the tone for the U.S. with a 5-and-4 victory over Boomer in a match that pitted the two hottest players of the week, and Golden, Diegel, Mehlhorn, Hagen, and Watrous also won their matches. Whitcombe managed a half with Sarazen and only Duncan stood up beneath the American onslaught, beating Turnesa, 1 up. The first Ryder Cup tally -- United States 9 1/2, Great Britain 2 1/2 -- was nearly as lopsided as Britain's win at Wentworth the year before.

The unexpectedly poor British showing, much like the United States's flameout in 1997 at Valderrama, was blamed on poor putting. The post-match analyses were just as pointed as those of today. Richardson wrote that Ray and his squad performed like "the worst putters in the world." George Philpot, editor of Golf Illustrated, concurred: "The trouble with us British is that we can't putt."