The legendary football coach Vince Lombardi once said, “If you’re on time, you’re late.” It was such a cornerstone of his coaching philosophy that arriving fifteen minutes early to practice wasn’t just encouraged—it was expected, and became known as “Lombardi Time.”
The reminder to err on the side of arriving early is something New Yorkers know well, whether its making a good impression at work or accounting for the inevitable subway delay, construction detour, or weather surprise.
But on Friday morning at the Ryder Cup at Bethpage Black, that old saying took on a cruel twist: If you’re early, you’re late.
Tens of thousands of fans descended on Farmingdale, Long Island with over an hour to spare before Bryson DeChambeau’s highly anticipated opening tee shot only to find the town completely overwhelmed by the flood of spectators.
By 6:15 a.m. all roads leading to 99 Quaker Meeting House Road were moving at a crawl. By 6:45 a.m. traffic had come to a complete standstill. Patrons stuck in Ubers stuck in traffic nervously looked at the clock as the first match was set to tee off at 7:10 a.m.
Realizing they could get no closer by car, patrons abandoned their Ubers and shuttle busses and opted to walk the final half mile to the entrance gates at Bethpage Black. What began as a trickle of people walking along the main roads swelled into a river of fans cutting through the neighborhood streets, the hope of catching the opening tee shot still intact.
But those hopes would be quickly dashed when the walkers met a sea of thousands already being herded by state troopers along Bethpage Road—a chaotic, unmoving mass of people that marked the end of the line for the general entrance still a quarter mile away.
DeChambeau’s opening tee shot came and went, as did all four tee times during the morning’s Foursomes matches while the thousands of patrons waited outside still trying to get in.
Tournament volunteers, hospitality staff, and credentialed media entering on foot were denied access to their respective entrances and were redirected into the same gridlocked general entrance crowd, despite having backpacks and gear that required specialized screening.
Compounding the issue, cell towers in the immediate area became overloaded as the congested mass simultaneously searched for a signal and patrons scanned the skies for satellite connection on their new iPhone 17s. Those lucky enough to have a signal sent texts to friends and coworkers who were already inside stating they would be late. Others pulled up the broadcast on their phones, and pockets of cheers erupted whenever a point went up for the Americans—or the Europeans.
The 45th Ryder Cup at Bethpage Black caused controversy when it released ticket prices last October, announcing that match day tickets would cost $749.51— around $400 more than the last time the U.S. hosted the tournament in 2021. Billing the tournament as a “Tier 1 event that’s on par with a World Series”, the PGA of America was able to sell out Ryder Cup tickets at exorbitant prices, yet fans received less than Tier 1 treatment as they watched the event on their cell phones while standing in a confusing line trying to get into the venue.
Frustrated fans wanting to take the edge off didn’t have to look far. Eagle-eyed neighbors aiming to capitalize on the crowds outside their house set up a cardboard sign directly across the street from the unmoving entry line advertising BEER & SHOTS—a makeshift driveway speakeasy complete with a picnic table with folding chairs.
Despite the confusion and overall disbelief at the disorganization of the situation, the crowd was by no means unruly or even loud. Everybody was in it together, united by the passion for the sport and excitement for the day ahead.
If the organizers knew tickets were sold out and the venue would be at capacity, how did they not have the entry logistics more figured out? Just how early did fans need to arrive to avoid the gridlock?
According to troopers on the scene, fans started arriving as early as 3 :30 a.m. to queue up for the 5 a.m. gate opening. By 5:15 a.m. most of the grandstands at the first tee were already filled. Those on Lombardi Time would not only miss the first tee shot, they would miss half of the entire morning session as the general entry line ballooned to over two hours.
As spectators trickled out after the afternoon matches, the young entrepreneurs who’d been selling beer and shots had pivoted their business model. A new cardboard sign now read: “Park Here.” It’s something ticket holders for the following day will surely consider when they plan their commute for Saturday’s matches—along with setting their alarm clocks a couple of hours earlier.