These are comfortable times for David Feherty. By his own estimation, he no longer has cause to despise himself - now that he has quit playing golf for a living and can demolish opponents with razor-sharp wit as a television commentator for the CBS network in the US.

Yet for all his protests, one suspects that Feherty wouldn't trade any part of his tournament career, especially not the time when he reached the pinnacle of Ryder Cup achievement. That was in the infamous "War on the Shore" at Kiawah Island, where Dave Stockton's storm-troopers gained a decidedly hollow victory for the US in 1991.

In a way, he seemed entirely the wrong man to ask about the most pressurised experience in golf. This, after all, was the extremely reluctant competitor who railed against everything that the tournament scene stood for, after capturing the BMW International in Munich in 1989.

"Anyone who enjoys what I had to go through out there today, must be a pervert," he claimed. And later, when asked in a television interview if he could describe the pressure he felt while standing over a three-foot putt for victory, he replied: "Let's put it this way. If you were to place a piece of coal between the cheeks of my arse, it would emerge as a diamond in three seconds."

So, it came as no surprise to hear him assert: "I don't like this game at all. I would rather play tennis or bowls. No, I enjoy this game only when it's all over - when I can look back."

That's the key. The blessed relief that comes only with time. Six years on, the Ryder Cup at Kiawah Island couldn't appear so fearsome. Or could it?

What was it really like on the Atlantic coast of South Carolina where he gained the distinction of producing the best golf of the tournament when beating Payne Stewart in the singles? These days, questions to Feherty are handled with a quiet self-assurance which has come from his experience in front of the cameras.

"I can only describe the Ryder Cup in the same way that women describe childbirth," he replied. "Which is that there's no way of adequately explaining what's involved. It's unique - a lot like what you imagined it to be, yet not like it at all."

He went on: "Fortunately, I had the advice of an old hand in Sam Torrance and like everything else, there are tricks for survival. For instance, before my singles match, Sam warned me not to walk onto the tee until my opponent was formally announced to the crowd.

"Otherwise, he warned me that I would stand petrified, just as the Christians must have felt before going to the lions, while this golfing god, the reigning US Open champion, was being introduced like some fabulous prizefighter.

"I was to learn that the Ryder Cup is institutionalised tribalism on a grand scale. It's life and death, delight and devastation - every extreme you care to imagine.

"And in my experience as a player on both sides of the Atlantic, the Europeans are far better equipped to handle its very special pressures. In Europe, tournament golfers are far closer. There's a greater empathy among players, a sort of male bonding - if that's not illegal!

"In simple terms, European players look out for each other in a way that very rarely happens in the US. During an American tournament, you could see 12 players sitting down to breakfast at 12 different tables. They are insular in the way they think and behave. And, believe me, that's not conducive to good team-spirit."

Then there is the American emphasis on winning and losing. There is no middle ground, no room for compromise or consideration.

"They talk over here about keeping up your level of intensity," Feherty went on. "My God, there's no more intense game than golf. The consequence of this sort of thinking was to be seen in the treatment of Curtis Strange and Lanny Wadkins after the 1995 Ryder Cup.

"They were vilified; cast into a golfing wilderness. But the European reaction was entirely different when Bernhard Langer had the misfortune to miss that putt at Kiawah. Nobody blamed Langer for failing. Our only reaction was to feel desperately sorry for him."

But what of the individual pressure? How does it come about? "Essentially, it is self-induced but in a group situation," he replied. "You look around at players you respect and whom you hope respect you. And you sense that they're expecting a certain level of performance from you and that you daren't let them down. And if you don't deliver, you will never be able to face them again.

"Yet, at no stage did I want to get out of the place, to leave all the pressure behind. To walk away would be to deny everything that you are. To deny your reasons for playing the game. Your whole golfing life has been geared towards becoming a member of this exclusive club and now that you're in, there's no turning back."

Feherty then spoke of the profound influence Seve Ballesteros had on the side as its most charismatic, senior member. "No player but Seve had the ability to make my hair stand on end, simply by watching him play," said the Ulsterman. "By that time, I had idolised him for the best part of 15 years, since he first hit the headlines at Birkdale in 1976.

"His presence is quite extraordinary. I can still see him prowling around, prodding players, grabbing them by the back of the neck, hugging them. He's a very physical person; personal contact is very important to him as a means of communication.

"At Kiawah, he made a particular point of coming to the newcomers in the side. Players like myself and David Gilford, Paul Broadhurst and Steven Richardson. He deliberately made himself feel small in our company so as to strengthen the bond between us.

"He bared his soul to us, telling of his own vulnerability, so that we might think of him as an equal, as just another member of the team. And that was the major part of his objective - to emphasise the extent to which we were all in this thing together, all pulling together.

"His motivational powers were phenomenal and I would expect him to have the same impact at Valderrama next week. I'm not saying that I would necessarily agree with everything that Seve has done so far as European captain, but I have no doubt he will be a passionate leader."

What of Valderrama? Which of the teams will it suit? "Oh, it's definitely going to suit the Americans," Feherty replied. Because of its subtle design, delightfully rolling terrain and ubiquitous cork trees? "No," said the Ulsterman. "Because they haven't had time yet to get to hate it."

He explained: "Everyone who knows Valderrama hates it. All the Europeans hate it. I hate it because of its dreadful greens which are so fast for the slopes as to make a mockery of the game. I'm serious. The greens at Augusta National aren't as quick.

"By the Sunday of the Ryder Cup I've no doubt the Americans will have come to hate the course just like the rest of us. But by then, it will be too late. The damage will have been done."

Feherty didn't play on the first morning of the Kiawah matches. But he and Torrance were in action together in the afternoon, gaining a half in the top fourballs against Wadkins and Mark O'Meara. They also led the foursomes the following morning but were beaten by Hale Irwin and Wadkins.

Then came the finale - a singles match against the man who had captured US Open title at Hazeltine three months previously and who had won the USPGA Championship in 1989. Kiawah was such a brutally difficult course that scores of two, three or even four over par were winning matches further down the singles order.

Playing at number two, however, Feherty gained one of only four European singles wins. And he did it with the best golf of the tournament - level par for the 17 holes it took him to record a 2 and 1 victory.

And how did he feel when it was all over? "I experienced a terribly odd sensation, ranging from the extremes of euphoria to utter desolation," he replied. "Even now I find it difficult to explain - other than the fact that it happened to be the Ryder Cup."