DOWN in the glen, something stirred.
It was a mixture of pipers, politicians, golfers in tartan jackets, punters with flags, pop singers and, somewhere presumably, a grouse in a pear tree.
The Ryder Cup opening ceremony, that biennial challenge to golf's reputation for restraint and dignity, was under way, and no montage of players sinking putts and jumping over each other would be left unshown, no dewy-eyed reference to the sanctity of the game remained unspoken, no tribute to the greatness of the participants left unsaid.
And then they spend the next three days battering a golf ball and each other's emotional and physical stability.
Golf, though, had come home and it must have found Scotland somewhat different from when the Ryder Cup was last played in here in 1973. Then the competition was relatively restrained and regularly won by the Americans.
Now it is a franchise dominated by Europe. Mammon has invaded the rolling Perthshire hills.
The millionaire golfers, who all pay dutiful tribute to the Caledonian origins of the game, will ply their trade before 120,000 paying spectators over three days and before the eyes of millions of television viewers.
The idea for the Ryder Cup was first mooted in Gleneagles in 1921 before taking shape in 1927. Samuel Ryder will look down from the clubhouse in the sky and gasp at the enormity of monster he has created.
Once the players would have walked to the first tee and taken out a stick and thrashed a dimpled sphere up a bit of grass. The Ryder Cup would have started. Now an opening ceremony is needed. It has its conventions. First wives and partners wander on to the stage and then the teams come in, led by their captains. It is less exciting than it seems.
The twist yesterday was the Scottish theme that ensured both teams wore tartan that would have been disowned by any clan beside the MacPrimarks and marched in behind pipers. Presumably players will mark that difficult four-foot putt with a finger of shortbread and strike their balls off tees made from the bones of a small haggis.
There was, though, sincere tribute to Scotland as the home of golf. Alex Salmond, the First Minister who could have been forgiven for crying off in memory of a recent competition when he finished runner-up, was booed almost affectionately when he arrived on stage and then cheered with a sense of consolation when he rose to speak.
His words were pitched as perfectly as a Phil Mickelson wedge from the side of the green. As Mickelson, the creator of Litigategate, sat with a grin that looks as genuine as a sighting of Nessie, Wee Eck made a decent joke about the Scottish origins of the Ryder Cup, before referencing the Gettysburg address with a four-score-and-13-years line, and then ended with a eulogy to a love of country, continent and golf.
Tom Watson, the American captain who has won four of his five Opens in Scotland, received the welcome due to a returning hero from the fans he described as the "heart and soul of the game of golf"'.
Paul McGinley, the European captain, conceded that his team may have come from "diverse cultures and different backgrounds", but added: "We stand as one." The only Scot in the team, Stephen Gallacher, was introduced to the sort of applause that would be expected if Wee Eck had sanctioned a mass payout of the oil funds in crisp tenners as a going-away present. Gallacher beat his chest with a fist. This was greeted by the Gleneagles Roar, transported from Glasgow for the weekend.
Di Dougherty, the Sky presenter who compered the event, then asked the captains to unveil their picks for the first matches. She implored the crowd in panto style to roar if they wanted to hear the names of the first chaps to strike a small white ball.
One was tempted to roar back: "They're behind you." They will be at the forefront of the sporting world in a patch of Perthshire over a frenetic weekend. Let the games begin.
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