The Ryder Cup, one of the ultimate team events, was taken over by an individual, and he wasn't called Padraig, Sergio or Phil.

He was a chap called Thomas Brent Weekley, better known as Boo.

But all was quiet, as Worksop's Lee Westwood drove Europe into a two-hole lead and the crowd to distraction.

One ice cream and an ill-considered text to our live text commentary team later, I plonked myself in the stand behind the 16th and watched - or rather heard - the tide turn.

First a faint chorus of "boooooooos" rang out from the distance. Weekley had birdied the 10th to square the match against Westwood and Soren Hansen.

Then the boos got louder when Boo drained a monster putt at the 12th to take the lead.

And so it went on. Boos and the new chant "Boo. S. A" erupting from every quarter of the course, whether the Floridian was in the vicinity or not.

By the time he and JB Holmes approached the 16th, the entire US team had assembled, wide eyed and beaming at greenside with Anthony Kim waving his Stars and Stripes like a giddy cheerleader.

When Weekley flighted the shot of the day to within two feet of a tough pin placement, the stand shook in appreciation.

That Boo and JB fluffed their lines, giving up their one-shot lead at the last, didn't matter. At least it doesn't matter yet.

Valhalla has unearthed an unlikely US hero.

"He's a normal guy. I'm a normal guy so that works," a man kitted out in a T-shirt saying "red, white and Boo" told BBC Radio 5 Live.

While Mickelson grew into his role as team leader, Boo Weekley filled a void that has been missing in Team USA for a while.

On Friday, he became their firecracker and mascot.

It pains me to say this as a European when my team is trailing but the Americans badly needed one and so did the event as a whole.

Bring on the Boo show and let's hope Europe's firecracker Garcia rises to the occasion. If he does, we're in for something special over the weekend.

I shook hands with Muhammad Ali and I haven't stopped smiling since.

For a brief second, I had in my hand, the right that dropped Sonny Liston and George Foreman and he had in his, the palm that conceded a penalty in an 8-2 defeat for UEA's 4th XI in Cardiff.

It wasn't a fair trade, but the occasion was not about what the champ could take from us. It was a surprisingly humble and informal welcome from Louisville's "Greatest" to all Ryder Cup visitors.

Mayor Jerry Abramson (who has a touch of the George W's about him) was there and so too was the deputy first minister of Wales Ieuan Wyn Jones (the event strangely doubling as a Ryder Cup handover from Kentucky to 2010 hosts Wales before a ball has even been struck in anger). But clearly everyone was there for Ali.

I've since heard some say that the overwhelming sense they had was one of sadness.

But it wasn't that way for me.

It was uncomfortable seeing the most charismatic of all sportsmen so obviously dimmed by Parkinson's. But there were still flickers of the great entertainer, signs that he still enjoys holding court, particularly at the Muhammad Ali Center, which was created to inspire others via Ali's six core values: "respect, confidence, conviction, dedication, giving and spirituality."

Ali didn't address his people - his illness doesn't permit public speaking these days. But wife Lonnie, a polished performer herself, spoke for him, batting away lavish praise as she was introduced with the opener: "I don't believe my own press, it's what keeps me humble".

She later referred to her husband as someone "who definitely does believe his own press", prompting Ali to swirl his hand around his ear as if to say his wife was "cuckoo".

Cue laughter and relief all around. Ali may be a shadow of his former self, but he is still there. He's still playful and he retains unparalleled presence wherever he goes.

When the formalities were over, press and public alike converged around Ali's throne (keeping up with the informal tone, his throne for the evening was a green armchair - the kind you may have sat on at your granny's), in the same gentle but passionate way that a Catholic congregation might swarm around the Pope.

"We love you Ali" was shouted several times and hands offered from all corners.

One of them was mine and I can categorically state that I would not have acted in this way for another human being on the planet. The man is my ultimate sporting hero and I reached out not as press (that hat was thrown to one side for a few moments) but as a fan.

To which end, I fully sympathised with the Arsenal shirt who "pressed flesh" with Ali moments before me and peeled away saying: "That's it, I'll never wash this hand again." (I have subsequently washed for the record but there was a moment of hesitation at the tap).

Ali didn't disappoint anyone and incredibly, he stopped to sign a few autographs, each taking a full 20 seconds to complete in his slowed condition. He also got a big hug from an elderly devotee as he retired to safety, visibly exhausted by his 30-minute outing.

There are some around Valhalla who feel that the column inches devoted to Ali (a boxer after all), ahead of the world's premier golf event, are over the top.

I disagree.

Ali has long transcended sporting and cultural boundaries. He is Louisville's most famous person (arguably the world's) and its finest ambassador.

US captain Paul Azinger used the Louisville Lip to kickstart his team's final push to win back the Ryder Cup. "I've idolized Muhammad Ali all my life...when you walk in the Ali Center, it's about what-ifs and dreams. I thought that was an important message."

And on Thursday, the European team suddenly converged on the first fairway in a flotilla of golf carts for an audience with Ali.

Cue more happiness, more cheers and more wonder. The Ali effect had struck again.

With Ali away from Valhalla and the opening ceremony fast approaching, now is definitely the time for the golf.

But I will always remember my night with Ali.

He shook up the world and I shook his hand. It doesn't get much better than that.

Thus spoke Samuel Ryder whilst watching an unofficial international match between the Americans and British at Wentworth in 1926. And a year later, the first official Ryder Cup match-up took place.

With words like those, it was pretty much destiny that the Ryder Cup would one day find its way to Louisville, Kentucky.

Good old Colonel Sanders opened his first restaurant in the small front room of a gas station in Corbin, Kentucky in 1930, acting as station operator, cook and cashier all at the same time.

By 2006, more than a billion of his "finger lickin' good" chicken dinners were served annually around the world, including not an inconsiderable number at Louisville airport - yep, you guessed it KFC was one of the first things I saw on arrival.

But what else is Kentucky known for?

Quick investigation reveals that this gastronomic hub is also home to the cheeseburger and to bourbon whiskey, the latter a particularly exciting discovery since the 37th Ryder Cup coincides with the 17th annual Kentucky Bourbon Festival.

Whiskey (spelt with an e in these parts) is a serious business here.

Maker's Mark, Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Knob Creek, Old Ezra Rare Old Sippin' Whiskey (it's even got its own widget!) and pretty much any other bourbon you care to mention that's not Jack Daniels (Tennessee) come from Kentucky.

They even had a "Ryder Cup of whiskey" debate at a local restaurant last week with a specially imported Scotsman singing the praise for Scotch and an American cheerleading for bourbon.

Sadly, I wasn't here for that, but a restaurant insider tells me bourbon won a home decision. Beware the omens Nick Faldo.

Louisville pre-dates its whiskey, however.

The city - currently the 29th largest in the States with a population of 558,000 - was named for King Louis XVI.

Acting - it must be said - against the spirit of the European golf pact that was to follow 201 years later, the French king sent supplies and soldiers to the fledgling United States in 1778, helping to secure their independence from Great Britain.

Louis' "ville" (town) has been home to all sorts since then.

From Thomas Edison (inventor) to Tom Cruise (actor) via Zachary Taylor (president) and Hunter S Thompson (author), all have savoured the streets of the USA's official most livable city.

And then, of course, there is Muhammad Ali.

Tomorrow, I'll take a closer look at Louisville sport and in particular at Ali and another famous city slugger, but in the meantime, do share any Kentucky facts or anecdotes that spring to mind.

I'll leave you with this nugget - apparently in Kentucky anyone who has been drinking is "sober" until he/she "cannot hold onto the ground". I'm just off to the bourbon festival then...