In these sensitive times you hesitate to talk of someone purring lest the term is deemed a breach of decorum.

But as Patrick Elsmie stood behind the first tee and spoke of his pride at Gleneagles staging the Ryder Cup, his impression of a contented cat could scarcely have been more convincing had he furnished himself with a bowl of cream, a toy mouse and a litter tray.

Elsmie has not exactly been hiding behind the parapet of the luxurious Perthshire hotel where he has been managing director for a number of years but when plaudits are being handed out for the running of this tournament, his professional instincts tend towards discretion.

As making things work smoothly is pretty much his area of expertise, his role should certainly not be underestimated and yesterday was a day when he could forgive himself a smile of satisfaction.

High in the stand at that first tee, in the minutes before the event teed off, Elsmie scanned the remarkable scenes before him and reflected on the long journey he and his hotel had been on since the idea of hosting golf's greatest team event first took shape.

"It's taken almost 14 years so there's immense pride to stand here and see it happen at last," he said. "We have sunshine, a great crowd, everything we could hope for. We couldn't have dreamt of anything more than this all those years ago. Finally seeing this is an amazing feeling and I know that the event is going to be fantastic."

The football chants echoing around the grandstands yesterday were rather different from the entertainment you might expect in the hotel's ballroom but even that could not diminish Elsmie's enjoyment of the day.

"I always enjoy a happy atmosphere in a hotel," he said. "That's why I'm a hotelier. When it's busy I love it. It's fantastic. The build-up to this over the last few months has been great."

Had there been any last-minute panics as the day of reckoning loomed ever closer in his diary? "No, we have been blessed by a lack of panics," he replied. "I think that's because the planning has been very good and all the people involved in the Ryder Cup have been working well together. The great thing is we have had so many years to get ready, so we are well prepared."

So, too, were the thousands of others who had risen before dawn for the privilege of being close witness to one of the signature moments on the sporting calendar. The temporary stands round the first tee of the Centenary Course at can hold approximately 3000 spectators - about 50,000 fewer than the number who actually wanted to fill them to watch the 7.35am start.

The race for places was all a bit unseemly but at least two people must have wished they had not bothered. The first was Ivor Robson, the legendary starter whose falsetto lift when introducing players deserves to be studied as one of the wonders of the science of linguistics.

In most other regards, Ivor is a figure of some authority but his gravitas evaporated into the chill Perthshire air when he introduced Webb Simpson thus: "Now on the tee from the United States . . . Bubba Watson!"

While Ivor turned the same shade of red as US captain Tom Watson's buggy, Simpson joined him in wishing the ground would open up by hitting an opening shot that rocketed upwards and came to rest just a little way past the front tee.

Most modern pros can drive a ball 300 yards - in Simpson's case that meant 200 vertical and 100 in a forward direction. The US PGA Tour tweeted that their man had hit "a short but accurate drive". The bloke in the row in front of me put it differently. "He f*****g skied it," the fellow exclaimed.

The wonder of it all was that Simpson had begged and beseeched Watson for a wildcard place on the team. At one point, he was sending Watson 4am text messages. That might have suggested to the captain that the 29-year-old might be a club or two short of a full set. Instead, Watson interpreted the messages as a sign of Simpson's determination and chose him for the team, an act on a par with inviting your deranged stalker round for tea.

As it happens, Simpson would provide some rich entertainment over the next few hours. For every hopeless hacker in the gallery who issued a yelp of delight when he prodded his ball in the direction of the first fairway, the world No.33 turned out to be the gift that kept on giving as he cobbled together a round that was almost as calamitous as Ian Poulter's.

Partnered with Bubba Watson against Henrik Stenson and Justin Rose in the fourballs, the two Americans pulled off the notable feat of failing to register a single birdie or win a hole before the match reached its inevitable conclusion on the 14th green - a 5 and 4 victory for the Europeans. It was no surprise when Simpson did not figure in the afternoon foursomes. Perhaps he spent the time whimpering quietly in his room, not one of Elsmie's happier customers.