TV View The faux enmity of golfing's continental challenge. Last week the Americans squared off against Britain and Ireland in the Walker Cup, a showcase for the best male amateur golfers, over Ganton Golf Club in Yorkshire, writes John O'Sullivan.

A little bit of needle is always preferable to any love-ins between the teams and it was introduced by England's Gary Wolstenholme who ruffled the Americans with a few well (ill) chosen words before the contest.

Wolstenholme didn't win a point on the opening day but contributed handsomely on the second and final day as Britain and Ireland triumphed. BBC television cameras lavishly captured the drama of the second day singles, the soundtrack provided by Peter Alliss, Alex Hay and Ken Brown.

The nature of the contest, with the issue in doubt up to the final match, made it compelling viewing but so too the colourful, relaxed, instructive commentary. It was in marked contrast to this week's offering as Europe v America was re-enacted, this time under the Solheim Cup banner that pits Europe's best lady professionals against their American counterparts.

Europe's captain Catrin Nilsmark is well known for her forthright views and comments made before last year's match won't have seen her receive too many Christmas cards with an American postmark.

This year she confined herself to just a single barb. The ingredients, therefore, were pretty similar to last week in the broadest terms, but one area in which they differed was the television coverage.

Sky Sports enjoy the rights to the Solheim Cup and so it was Bruce Critchley, Ewan Murray and former European Solheim Cup captain Micky Walker that took over the microphones. The satellite broadcaster cannot be faulted for the resources they employ in covering sport, multifarious camera angles enhancing the visual enjoyment but the Murray-Critchley axis is very much a love-hate thing.

You either like the fact that everything is wonderful, everyone is a superb golfer, every course is magnificent and pretty much all in the garden is "splendid", or you're of the opinion a little critical analysis is preferable.

There was some marvellous golf over the three days and any male hacker whose swing resembles a tsunami could do worse than observe what rhythm and control can do for a golf swing. But it was annoying to watch the golf being over-hyped.

Earlier in the week George Hamilton and Jim Beglin brought the Irish public a blow-by-blow account of Russia's 4-1 victory over Switzerland in the European Championship qualifier at the Locomotiv stadium in Moscow. Hamilton is in his element in matches of this ilk, where pronunciation of team members would reduce the average Joe to a gibbering wreck.

One cynic did suggest that few people would be any the wiser had George been fumbling through the Russian names, but given this column had the team sheets in front of him on the night, Hamilton was pitch-perfect.

George did, of course, get completely carried away (see Planet Football) when Switzerland took the lead only to rein in that enthusiasm with every passing Russian goal. Note: George, if Ireland do somehow manage to take the lead in Basel, we do not want to hear "the Irish have one foot in the play-offs," or similar phrases that tempt fate.

Managed to tune in to non-interactive Scalextrix for Adults (without the fun), otherwise known as Formula One Grand Prix motor racing. In mitigation, this has been one of the most competitive seasons with eight separate winners for the first time since 1982 as opposed to the usual Michael Schumacher procession.

But for the non-aficionado, Formula One, from a television perspective, is reduced to two or three moments of mild interest. Given there's bugger all overtaking unless one car has flames spewing or is patently inferior, i.e., Ferrari, Williams or McLaren careering past the rest, the ennui is only relieved by the pitstops.

But even these have become so sanitised, so virtually flawless it's no longer fun. God be with the days when the ol' nozzle wouldn't come out or go in, when a wheel nut refused to budge or someone dropped a tyre . . .

Now the commentators are reduced to droning on about so-and-so being on a two-stop or three-stop strategy; it doesn't matter as everything is completed in seven or eight seconds as they splash and dash. Even patriotism hardly raises a smile these days. Jordan cars are so far back on the grid and it's only a matter of time before the engine or driver explodes.

Eddie Jordan's biggest cost this season has been tow-truck bills. It's that sort of television.