If winless Bubba Watson is a captain’s pick for the Ryder Cup team, you’ll know why:

On Sunday evening I was hanging out in the locker room at Oakland Hills. It was by far the best place to watch the telecast of the PGA Championship. There was only one TV in the cavernous room, and various players and caddies kept stopping by to check out, and comment upon, the back-nine action. Angel Cabrera was nursing a series of Miller Lites and barking at Sergio in Spanish. Niclas Fasth, in his too-tight Euro jeans and shiny, pointy-toed loafers, offered a non-stop monologue of how every shot was playing and every putt would break. Paul Casey stopped long enough to show off a t-shirt emblazoned with ANARCHY ON THE FAIRWAY.

One of the most animated observers was Paul Azinger, who offered a much more profane version of his usual TV commentary. I was standing with Zinger when Bubba rolled in. The U.S. Ryder Cup captain lit up.

“Hey, what year is your Lambo?” Azinger asked.

“’08.”

“I just drove an ’09,” said Zing. “When you downshift, that sucker roars. I gotta get one.”

“You can drive mine sometime,” said Watson. Then a thought occurred to him, and he broke into a cheesy grin. “Hey, maybe we can work a deal!”