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Can’t the Ryder Cup be moved forward a couple of months?

I am currently feeling decidedly under-whelmed by a sporting summer that promised me the excitement of seeing sporting Gods at work and thrills and spills beyond my wildest dreams but for the most part – failed to deliver.

The 2010 World Cup – the quadrennial gathering of the greatest football talent on Planet Earth didn’t really live up to expectations for most people.

Surely the fact that the words “Vuvuzela” and “Jabulani” are now firmly planted in the mind of everyone who viewed the South African showpiece only backs that statement up.

We were talking about them because Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo and to a lesser extent Lionel Messi gave us nothing else to marvel at.

For me the game of the tournament was the Ghana versus Uruguay quarter final.

Anyone not Uruguayan must have felt a tinge of sadness when Asamoah Gyan blasted the ball against the crossbar with the last kick of extra time.

By this point England were long gone of course albeit with a hint of controversy.

Having been ripped to shreds by a German side that was, amazingly, scoring goals like it was going out of fashion, the only crumb of comfort for England’s massive support was that Diego Maradona and Argentina met with a similar fate.

Surely Germany must win the whole thing now? Er, no.

The slow burning Spain expertly put them to the sword before surviving the Dutch assault in the final.

Reports of poor infrastructure, badly organised fan zones and widespread petty crime just add to the desire that this one should be put down to experience.

But now we had the summer staples to look forward to.

Well not really. This sporting apathy lark must be catching.

The first week of Wimbledon was the exception to the rule. Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer were both stretched to five sets in the opening days at SW19.

We also had the record breaker between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut.

I feel it would also be less than honest to ignore the delight felt across at least half the nation by the return of Anna Kournikova to the British summer.

Week two reverted to type.

Andy Murray had coasted through with but was swatted aside by a rampant Nadal. The improving Czech, Tomas Berdych ended the interest of numbers three and two in the world.

Surely he could give the world number one a decent game at the very least?

You know the rest.

Ok then. Chin up David and on to the British Grand Prix at Silverstone.

Perhaps more than most, this event encapsulated the summer of sport.

An exciting start with Mark Webber almost forcing Sebastian Vettel off the track before a sadly predictable procession to the chequered flag.

The high point of the day was Webber having a go at his own team. “Not bad for a number two driver!”

Come on St.Andrews. Save us.

The opening day of golf’s British Open Thursday belonged to Rory McIlroy who shot a majestic 63. The Old Course looked ready to welcome the second consecutive Northern Irish major winner.

That thought lasted less than a day as Mother Nature saw fit to sigh and blow Rory off course.

Tiger Woods, as ever, was prowling but going into Sunday it was the unfancied South African, Louis Oosthuizen who led the pack.

No way could he hold off the charge of Lee Westwood, Paul Casey et al.

It was never, EVER in doubt.

An easier final day at St. Andrews may never have been seen. On the birthday of Nelson Mandela, the South African kept his head as all around lost theirs.

What might have been this past couple of months?

So it’s down to you Mr Ryder to perk me up after one of the more disappointing summers of sport.

Don’t let me down.