On successive weekends in Chicago and Munich, the great decisions have been made: we now have European and US Ryder Cup teams ready for their biennial confrontation. And for the first time since the series was launched in Worcester, Massachusetts, 72 years ago, the precise nature of the battle has been clearly defined.

We in Europe have known for some time that the remarkable successes of the last 14 years could be attributed largely to leadership and togetherness. But it is only in the build-up to Brookline next month, that the Americans seem to have figured this out.

Though his language was somewhat extreme, Payne Stewart almost got it right. He was left with a public relations disaster, however, when only half his original magazine statement was actually used in newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic.

"On paper, they shouldn't be caddying for us," said the reigning US Open champion of America's prospective opponents from Europe. His viewpoint, though wildly partisan, was understandable given that no fewer than 10 of the American Ryder Cup team are ranked in the world's top 20, the only exceptions being Tom Lehman (23rd) and Steve Pate (32nd).

As it happened, those words left Stewart acutely embarrassed during the USPGA Championship at Medinah, where he had a stream of mock caddying offers, including one from Ireland's Darren Clarke. The other half of the American's statement was: "But that isn't what this is about. It's about bringing your game to the event. And they bring it."

There can be no doubt about European commitment. But Stewart's captain, Ben Crenshaw, got to the nub of the manner when he said: "It is a team effort. And I'll say this, the Europeans have done a very, very fine job of showing us how to get the job done."

Of course, it's also about competitive toughness, the sort that current skipper Mark James displayed when, in his last Ryder Cup appearance at Oak Hill in 1995, he thrashed Jeff Maggert by 4 and 3.

As James put it: "If you become extremely nervous and you don't know it's happening, you're in trouble. But if you slow yourself down and make sure you concentrate and take one thing at a time, you'll get through it. It's also important to know that other players, on both sides, are feeling the same way."

He went on: "I was nervous once, on the Saturday of the 1989 matches at The Belfry. Howard Clark and I were playing Payne Stewart and Curtis Strange and I had a six-foot putt on the 17th to put us one up. After taking a couple of practice strokes, I moved my feet up to the ball and then put the clubhead behind it.

"Just as I was attempting to shuffle my feet into position, I realised to my horror that I couldn't move them. Suddenly, I feared I might fall over. After what seemed an eternity, I pointed my shoulders and tried to cope as best I could and fortunately, the ball hit a bump and went into the hole. And we went on to win the match by one hole."

When the US lost on home soil for the first time in 1987 at Muirfield Village, their skipper, Jack Nicklaus, attributed Europe's superiority to the fact that their players were more used to winning regular tournaments. And winning builds confidence.

More recently, Nicklaus added: "Our 10th guy can hide a little bit in our country. But the best from Germany, England or Sweden have always been pushed whereas ours aren't necessarily pushed that way. Our guys are still awfully good players, but maybe they can be a little more relaxed about their position."

As with Stewart's recent observation, this, too, is only part of the picture, given that such leading Europeans as Sandy Lyle, Nick Faldo, Langer and Ian Woosnam had only three major championships between them in 1987. And the huge rewards currently on offer, ensure that all of the leading players have to push themselves to maintain their status within the game.

Meanwhile, the importance of leadership and togetherness didn't register with Nicklaus 12 years ago. Like other US captains since then, he wasn't about to admit weaknesses in his own handling of the job.

In Europe, leadership came from within and without the team. When Eamonn Darcy travelled to Muirfield Village, his skipper, Tony Jacklin, wouldn't have filled him with admiration. Only two years previously, Darcy's great friend, Christy O'Connor Jnr, had been on the receiving end of what appeared to be a cruel rebuff by Jacklin, who by-passed him as a wild-card on the 1985 team.

Darcy's mood wouldn't have been helped by being left out of the morning and afternoon pairs on the Friday. And on Friday evening, he learned that he would not be in the Saturday morning's foursomes. Yet he conceded on the Friday night: "Even if I don't play until Sunday's singles, I have to say that Jacklin is a superb captain."

From within, the team was led by Ballesteros who, quite correctly, was described as the soul of the European challenge. And when the illustrious Spaniard was elevated to the captaincy two years ago at Valderrama, Colin Montgomerie became the team's on-course leader.

With a few exceptions, America have been lacking in both these roles in recent years. Paul Azinger was as close as they came to having an oncourse leader from 1989 to 1993.

The added, unifying force which Ballesteros brought to the Europe effort was a deep-seated antipathy towards Americans. He could be on quite friendly terms with certain individuals, such as Azinger and Watson, but collectively, Americans were anathema to him.

There is the revealing story of the 1991 matches, when the Europeans were highly suspicious of the tactics employed by Stockton and when Langer had the misfortune to miss that five-foot putt against Hale Irwin which would have secured a tie. As the German wept bitterly afterwards, Ballesteros went over to him and put his arm over Langer's shoulders. "Don't worry, Bernhard," he said soothingly. "Next time we'll f--- them good."

By closely analysing all the key elements of various European teams since Palm Beach Gardens in 1983, when competitiveness was achieved, albeit in defeat, the penny has finally dropped with Americans. They now understand what Langer meant when he said: "The Ryder Cup is not an individual championship. It's a team event."

Ballesteros said: "Twenty years ago, the Americans did not really respect the European Tour players enough, and the only way to change that was to beat them in the Ryder Cup. If we did that, then many other changes would happen. I think I have been proved right."

It was the new-found awareness of European team unity which led to so much grief among Americans at Medinah, as they persisted in shooting themselves in the foot through destructive comments about playing for pay. The most damaging words came from David Duval in a lengthy interview in the current issue of Golf Digest.

At this stage, it may be no harm to refresh our memories. When asked why the Americans were losing team events such as the Ryder Cup and the President's Cup, Duval replied: "I have no answer to that. To say we should win because we're the best players is silly, because that's not fair to the other teams. The Europeans we play at the Ryder Cup are great players. Same with the Internationals in the President's Cup.

"But I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it, because I haven't figured out why we make such a big deal about it. There's way too much emphasis on those events, no question about it. The Ryder Cup is an exhibition. The whole thing has become a little overcooked, but it's probably going to stay that way until players choose not to play."

Golf Digest are happy to stand over every word of that. And when Duval's words were interpreted, quite reasonably, as threatening a boycott, he later insisted: "I said it would take players not playing. I have a hard time, as a person, figuring out where that's saying it's a boycott."

So we had the then world number one golfer entering into a semantical discussion with a group of specialists for whom words are their stock in trade. But it hardly mattered that Duval couldn't win. It is just that such outpourings would have been unthinkable from a European Ryder Cup player. His loyalty to the cause simply wouldn't permit it.

For all the high fives of the American players and the cheerleader histrionics of their wives or girlfriends along the fairway ropes, they have succeeded only on rare occasions, in genuinely matching the team-spirit of their rivals. It is just not in their nature.

Walk into a US clubhouse on the morning of a tournament and you're likely to see individual players eating breakfast at separate tables. In Europe, players seek out each other's company at meal times. And it goes beyond that.

Over the years, I have been invited by several European players to join them for meals. Indeed, I recall an occasion two years ago when Ballesteros invited me to join him for lunch and I, in turn, invited Padraig Harrington to join both of us. Those things happen rarely in the US.

Crenshaw has four weeks to apply his new-found knowledge about togetherness. Effectively, it is an attempt at changing a whole a way of life. In which case, prospective European rivals will delight in the knowledge that a month is a very short time indeed.