Last night, a nation turned its watchful eyes toward its television screens and witnessed a type of ritual usually only held behind closed doors. Eager voters finally got a glimpse into the smoke-filled rooms that line the halls of power—the places where world affairs are settled and where great men may speak freely. At last, the electorate saw something real: two old, powerful men petulantly blustering about their golf games.

The moment came at the very end of an interminable presidential debate that was, as my colleague David Graham notes, “at times almost physically uncomfortable.” Trump rambled and spewed false claims, while Biden looked stunned at times, raspily peppering viewers with a buckshot approach to his talking points. Each candidate gave off the impression of quietly hating the other, yet their exchanges lacked any true vigor, even when they discussed matters of the economy, national security, and war. It wasn’t until the mention of Trump’s average distance off the tee that America got a glimpse of two men fighting like they had something to prove.