And so, another year, another Australian Open and PGA Championship, and the Australian golf establishment’s jewels and money-makers of genuine DP World Tour status have been run and won.

The weather was all over the shop, players had a crack at this and that, and champions Ryggs Johnston and Jiyai Shin are not exactly Pat Rafter and Cathy Freeman in terms of effect on our national sports-watching consciousness.

But they do seem quite nice.

Elvis Smylie is quite nice and our Next Big Thing, and thick hordes of golf fans flooded to Royal Queensland and then the Sandbelt to see him do his best against our best and most-famous.

And in two weeks of world-class pro golf, there was plenty going on.

One takeaway from wandering among The People, was the preponderance of Ripper GC merch. The maroon livery with the golden … whatsits. Chevrons?

Not saying it was all-blue blackout of an India-vs-Australia one-dayer in Mumbai.

But there was a bit about.

So, are the Rippers sneaking up on Australia and becoming “our” team, by which I mean that of we, the greater Australian sports-watching punterati? Are they Australia’s golf team?

You would have to say they probably are given they’re one Australia’s only golf teams. Even the members of our Olympic team play as individuals.

Regardless, Ripper GC is my team, my boys. Smitty and Herbie, Jonesy and Leish – top Aussies all.

I like their branding. I want in with the tribe. If I weren’t from the generation that invented the mullet, I would buy one of Cam Smith’s stiff-billed suede hats and go to Adelaide and pour pale ale over my Wyatt Earp moustache.

I may yet anyway.

And what about you, Lance LeRoux? You want in with the tribe? Can you add Ripper GC affection to that you hold for Bulldogs, Broncos and Bruins?

On a scale of Collingwood reserves beating your team on a Saturday morning, to your bet on Steve Jackson to be last try-scorer in the 1989 grand final; how jazzed are you that Ripper GC won the Teams Championship thing in Dallas?

Lucas Herbert (right) with caddy, Nick Pugh, ever auditioning for role as The Baddie In That Netflix Show, Sweet Tooth. PHOTO: Getty Images.

I would say I was mildly pleased, at best, without assembling travel plans and bunting for the open-topped parade down George Street.

But still. Good on them, right? Top stuff.

We like the players, of course. Consider Marc Leishman. He makes beer. He is from the ‘Bool. He grew up on a golf course with a prevailing southerly so stiff that trees grow horizontally.

If Smithy were not out on the fairways at The Grange in February, he’d be on the drink in Adelaide. He fishes, he follows the Broncos. He once missed Brisbane so much, he flew a mate into Florida to live in one of his 27 spare rooms.

Lucas Herbert is from Bendigo and often laughing with his merino-bearded caddie, and Matt Jones is from Cronulla and twice won the Australian Open.

And we do like these people. We know these people. They are our people. We are these people.

And so on.

Marc Leishman walks through vines of hops at the brewery where Leishman Lager is made in Virginia. PHOTO: Getty Images

But is Ripper GC our team?

In the film Master And Commander, Russell Crowe says of HMS Surprise, “Though we be on the far side of the world, this ship is our home. This ship, is England.”

Whether captain Smith and his Rippers become “Australia”, floating around the world, taking prizes, remains to be seen.

But it’ll still be fun getting on the drink in Adelaide.