And so it rumbles on.

The USA's dispiriting defeat by the well-oiled European machine in last weekend's Ryder Cup at Gleneagles has produced the kind of fall out usually reserved for a nuclear winter.

Reports dribbling out from the other side of the pond yesterday through the ESPN network claimed that a supposed team-bonding session in the US camp on the eve of the Sunday singles descended into an unedifying palaver. It was more mutiny than unity.

The unseemly unravelling of Tom Watson's captaincy continues. The 16½-11½ defeat to Europe seven days ago was bad. The prolonged post-mortem is shaping up to be even worse. While Paul McGinley, the European skipper, revels in the glory and continues to be showered with acclaim for his meticulous attention to detail and inspiring man-management, Watson's disjointed, stubborn and off-the-cuff approach is viewed as old school, old hat and out of touch; a kind of homespun, everything can be fixed with a hammer philosophy from times of yore.

Phil Mickelson got the tongues wagging in the immediate aftermath of the biennial event by delivering a grim assessment of Watson's tenure during an awkward yet captivating press conference in which the American captain's regime was, effectively, torn to shreds in the public eye.

Away from the peering eyes of a watching world, it seems the internal strife in these far from United States was already at boiling point long before Mickelson's withering critique.

Sources in the team room have claimed that Watson, pictured, refused to accept any responsibility for his side's failings, ridiculed various European players, scoffed at a gift the US team had given him and started the team meeting by lambasting the performance of his men during an afternoon session that saw them fall 10-6 behind.

"You stink at foursomes," was the alleged comment Watson made before proceedings began. Given that they had lost those two sessions 7-1 overall, he wasn't that far off the mark with his no-holds barred judgment.

Watson was subsequently presented with a gift by Jim Furyk - a replica of the Ryder Cup trophy that was signed by every member of the team - but instead of thanking them, the sources say Watson hissed that it meant nothing to him if the players didn't get the real Ryder Cup. "That's almost verbatim; he said it basically means nothing to me," reported an insider.

"It was fairly shocking that he treated this thoughtful gift with such disdain," added another source.

The divide between players and captain became clear when it was claimed that Mickelson, with his back to Watson, rallied the troops with an upbeat pep talk that "changed the tenor of the room from completely negative and heads down to 'Let's give this a go tomorrow'."

Mickelson's calm, calculated and cold denunciations of Watson's captaincy on Sunday night were seen as a cynical, badly-timed ploy during which a venerated veteran of this Royal & Ancient game was publicly humiliated.

But judging by the reports from the previous evening, it would appear Mickelson simply could not keep the tin lid on his, and his team-mates, frustrations any longer. It may have been an uncomfortable, untimely twisting of the knife, but Mickelson may just have done the PGA of America a big favour.

At least now, they have been made brutally aware of the fumbling failings of their slap dash, wing and a prayer approach to the captaincy.

While the Europeans march on with a line of succession, a clear continuity and a confidence, the Americans, having lost eight of the last 10 Ryder Cups, muddle on with confusion and a lack of cohesion. The consequences continue to be calamitous and controversial.