“We won’t need to change the bed linen at Adare Manor; I can tell you that!” 

The aftermath of Shane Lowry’s ascension to the Ryder Cup pantheon made about as much sense as the moment itself.

He was swigging from what had to have been the second-sweetest bottle of cider that Magners managed to put a lid on. The sweetest of all had been sunk by the 18th green as he stood there in a daze, adrenaline still pumping through him, trying to comprehend what he’d done on that little patch of manicured Long Island grass.

Ninety minutes later, Lowry sat to the right hand of Luke Donald in the winners press conference and assured the every-minute-detail-obsessed captain that the bedsheets will be just fine when Europe chases a three-peat back home in 2027. This week at the Garden City Hotel the European captain and his support staff had done a quick room service routine to ensure their 12 players were as comfortable as possible.

Even the Egyptians have yet to come up with a cotton which could have comforted them through most of Sunday. Until Lowry’s moment arrived. It had been an excruciating Sunday of creeping dread across Bethpage Black’s 18 holes. An unassailable lead became, in fact, very assailable indeed as Keegan Bradley’s US team proved that while the Ryder Cup may not ultimately suit them, its format certainly does.

This was a day of exceptional American individualism. Having floundered as a team, coming into the final day of New York’s Ryder Cup trailing by seven, the hosts rose in the most emphatic fashion as solo artists, dominating Sunday. Giants of the European team were felled one by one and that drip-drip tension and discomfort that had risen slowly at first was coursing through them all as Lowry stood in the middle of the 18th fairway.

He wondered how in the name of jaysus he’d ended up here. With Viktor Hovland having had to withdraw through injury and thus given a half by default because of the “envelope rule”, Europe had actually needed just 2.5 points from 11 to seal the away victory they’d craved. Going out eighth of 11 Lowry assumed the cider might be getting warm by the time he’d get back in.

Instead he had to work for it.

Standing at a media viewing platform above the 18th green from around 4.30pm local time, the next 90 minutes became some of the most surreal we’ve ever experienced. That creeping dread had got to its destination. American after American rolled into Bethpage’s closing stage and opened the door to something impossible.

It began with Cam Young arrowing home a putt which put the day’s first point on to the red side of the ledger and ended Justin Rose’s incredible late burst. There are books to be written about just the closing six holes between the opening pairing. Sunday as a whole will require an anthology. And the entire week? Well, the European fans had goaded the hosts on opening morning that “Bethpage is a library”. They’ll fill it easily with the stories of this 45th Ryder Cup.

Justin Thomas followed Young’s leader and holed a winner on 18 to take out Tommy Fleetwood and the thousands who’d gathered in the grandstand and poured out below it were now beginning to believe. Xander Schauffelle made it 11-8 by toppling Jon Rahm and more followed. Scottie Scheffler and Rory McIlroy, both utterly exhausted by the opening four sessions, engaged in 18 holes of what the Holywood man would afterwards describe as a “pillow fight” before Scheffler prevailed.

Ludvig Aberg didn’t ease nerves so much as give them a 30-second break as he put one lone sliver of blue on the board. But they were buzzing again because below him there wasn’t much more coming. Matt Fitzpatrick and Bryson DeChambeau, another towering Sunday contest, ended all square and so Europe moved to 13.5, one away from victory and half away from retaining this thing.

Another glance up and down the leaderboard. The eyes found Lowry. He’d found something to bring Russell Henley back within halving distance. When so many Europeans were sickly silenced, Lowry’s irons were singing. The approach that helped win 15 came from down 175 yards below on the fairway and was sent into 3.5 feet. Just one behind now, he lasered another into whispering distance to tie 16 in birdie threes. On the penultimate green he needed a par to avoid putting the one red on the board which may well and truly have sunk European hearts.

Before the putt he’ll see a million times arrived on 18 there was one he’ll never want to have his eyes on again. A nasty bastard of a four footer for par it crept in the side door at the last possible minute.

And so to the fairway at 18 and the golden hour sun pouring down on Lowry and caddie Darren Reynolds.

“I didn’t envision myself going up the 18th needing a birdie to retain the Ryder Cup. It was the worst two hours of my life. It was horrible. But I said to my caddie walking down 18, ‘I’ve got an opportunity to do the greatest thing I’ve ever done today’.” 

To pull it off he needed one final approach from the heavens. He found one, into six feet, four closer than Henley whose putter had gone cold. When he sent it where it needed to go, everything poured out of him. The Seamus Darby hop, the jump and skip. It was an explosion of fists and flying feet and yet just one man. Some man for one man.

His father’s hat bobbed through the throngs to the side of the green and Lowry followed his moment for all-time with an interview to match, his teary groan a noise that came from somewhere maybe he didn’t even know was in there.

“You think back to the Irish greats in the game, they have all holed putts to win the Ryder Cup and I got my moment today,” he’d tell a BBC radio man. “It’s the best moment ever.” 

Europe still needed another half point to win and spare us a potentially world-ending debate on retaining the cup thanks to the envelope rule. Tyrrell Hatton did the work of the gods finding just that half and Robert MacIntyre added another for a round 15-13 victory which we’ll spend the next two years trying to put a shape on.

During and after the trophy ceremony, Lowry was a man who’d had years taken off him in the best way, the wild childlike joy pouring out of him. Out of all of them at the winner press conference, this remarkable dozen who’d stared an all-time collapse in the face only to be left standing after all.

The bedsheets may have been comfy but they’d hardly be needed. A day of days was about to be followed by a night of nights. The cup will go back across the Atlantic and reappear in Adare two Septembers from now. Somewhere in between you’ll be sure to see it in Clara.