Growing up, you readily accept the reality with which you're presented. Turn on the TV in early April during the Eighties, and you'd half-expect to bump into a European player donning the coveted Green Jacket at Augusta National. In fact, the odds were soon better than 50-50 in a trend that extended till the end of the Nineties. During those 20 years, Europeans captured 11 out of 20 Masters titles.
Just six different players shared those spoils: Nick Faldo (thrice), Seve Ballesteros (twice), Bernhard Langer (twice), Jose Maria Olazabal (twice), Ian Woosnam and Sandy Lyle (once each). Two decades of decadence for European fans. Like computers with cassette-players and mobiles the size of toasters, it was just the way it was. No big deal. Why would it ever change?
Well, change it did. Just as there were no European winners prior to 1980, there has been none since the turn of the millennium. Turns out what Seve, Bernie, Nick and Co achieved really was a big deal. And the Masters heroes of my salad days have been replaced by a bunch of great wet lettuces. For 15 years, the phone's been ringing off the hook. That call is from heroism. It's high time someone accepted the charges.
Twenty-eight players line up from our continent's contingent this year, and three of them are those stars of yesteryear (Sandy, Woosie and Ollie collecting their pensions with a couple of ceremonial laps). The willing and able 25, however, must fancy their collective chances of rolling back the clock to the time of their illustrious predecessors.
Henrik Stenson and Sergio Garcia are in-form top-tenners looking to turn the major disappointment into major relief. Martin Kaymer has already matched Langer's German precision with two of golf's big four. Best buds Justin Rose and Ian Poulter have flirted with final-round contention at Augusta before. Lee Westwood could conceivably have a pair of Green Jackets in his closet. While something's bound to go right for that Rory McIlroy one day.
Whichever way you look, though, it's been a long time between drinks. And, like alcohol, history's hand can be a good servant but a bad master. The sextet of Eurostars which defined the late 20th century all inspired one another. Seve broke down the door in 1980 and his peers duly followed him through. The rest of the world has since bricked up the old European playground, but it would only take one player to bulldoze the wall and kick-start that Masters merry-go-round.
Paul McGinley muttered some off-camera on the Golf Channel the other day about Augusta National no longer being the Euro-friendly track it was. Yet that's a load of bunkum. Granted, the course has been substantially lengthened to some 7,400 yards, but Europe has enough bombers to match the heavy-artillery players stateside. Augusta's first and final line of defence is its lightning greens. Performance on them is what determines who is cut out for golf's finest garment each year. And McIlroy, Westwood and Rose have missed too many short putts in recent memory.
The main reason for the European drought in the season's first major, though, is what they were up against for most of those 15 years. Namely, Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson, at the top of their respective games around a tailor-made layout. Phil and Tiger have donned seven Green Jackets between them since 2000, and gifted as the recent crop of Europeans were, they invariably couldn't compete with the two best players of the last generation.
However, with Uncle Sam's two totemic talents receding with the years, McIlroy has now filled their Footjoys, and spearheads the European challenge down Magnolia Lane next week. Stenson and Garcia are nipping at his heels, but don't rule out a longshot strike from the advancing Paul Casey or the mercurial Victor Dubuisson.
Indeed, with 12 other Euros currently housed inside to top 50 of the world rankings, it's surely only a matter of time before the self-belief returns at The Masters. It has in all the other majors. Not to mention Ryder Cups. One spark of imagination or inspiration is all it takes: resisting the siren song of Rae's Creek, kicking out of the intoxicating azaleas, pinging off the dogwoods.
However, Augusta is a special, unique test that comes but once a year. By the laws of probability alone, it's easier to envisage another European breakdown than a belated breakthrough.
The high roof of hope is whimpering under the mounting expectation. So I'll get those old BBC VHS tapes out of the attic just in case. They don't make 'em like they used to.