When you play golf, do you play by the rules?
Exhibit A: Several years ago, while addressing my ball in the first fairway of a medal competition, I accidentally nudged it very slightly – no more than an inch, and not into a better lie. My playing partner could not have seen what I’d done; nevertheless, I immediately notified him that I’d moved my ball and called a one-shot penalty on myself (under Rule 18-2b).
Exhibit B: Several weeks ago, during the second hole of another competition, I discovered that my five-year-old son’s 9-iron and putter were in my golf bag. As I possessed 16 clubs, I should have incurred a four-shot penalty (under Rule 4-4a). However, insofar as I would never use such tiny clubs, this time I decided not to ruin my round over a technicality; I kept my mistake to myself.
In the first situation, was I too harsh on myself? In the second, did I blatantly cheat? Would your answers be different if I were playing not in a medal at my home club, but in a major at Augusta National?
I could write a doctoral thesis on Tiger Woods’ now-infamous ball drop during the second round at the 2013 Masters, a thoroughly disorienting tournament even before the golfing blogosphere detonated on Saturday morning. The greens almost looked slow – I’ve never seen so many Masters putts left short of the hole. An entire day passed in which only a handful of golfers tried to reach the 13th or 15th greens in two. A 14-year-old (really???) was assessed a penalty stroke for slow play (what?!?) but still made the cut (how!?!). And then Tiger hit a brilliant wedge shot which could have netted an eagle, deserved a birdie, led to a bogey which became a triple-bogey, and probably should have resulted in his disqualification.
Here’s the thing: the Rules of Golf are supposed to be sacred texts applied with Levitical rigor. The PGA Tour’s threat of schism with the USGA and the R&A over the proposed ban on “anchoring” putters matters precisely because everyone is supposed to play golf by the same rules. But even disregarding intentional cheaters, we don’t all play by the same rules. I routinely see golfers in medal competitions accidentally tee up inches ahead of the tee markers, fail to declare second balls as “provisional”, and yes, mess up their drops after hitting into water hazards. I could point out these errors more often than I do, but who wants to become a social leper over a few inches or forgotten words? So I keep quiet and let the rules be bent or broken; occasionally, I even play God and take the law into my own hands.
At first, I was outraged by the Tiger Drop. Ignorance of the rules is not bliss: professionals are held to the highest standards, and many before Tiger have been expelled from events for lesser offenses. I don’t for a moment think Tiger was trying to gain an unfair advantage by his actions – but by his own admission, he thinks he did gain one. And golf isn’t soccer: golfers don’t try to con the referee to win corner kicks and penalties. Tiger isn’t just supposed to know the rules, but also follow them to the letter.
But most of us – including the Masters rules committee, apparently – draw our own lines between “strict rules of golf” and “common sense should prevail”. Is that right? I’m not sure. I do think most of us, myself included, should try to draw those lines closer to the letter of the law than we currently do; the rules are as they are for a reason, and ignoring them because we think we know best – even if one can reasonably argue that the punishment of disqualification is always disproportionate to the crime of procedural inaccuracy – violates the spirit of the law as much as the letter. Still, my outrage yielded to guilt when I realized my own hypocrisy; can I really hate the Tiger Drop verdict when I fall short of rules perfection myself?
I do know that Tiger whiffed on a glorious chance to burnish his legacy by withdrawing from the tournament voluntarily and testifying that no golfer is bigger than the rules of the game. If Jack Nicklaus had been in Tiger’s shoes, I’m certain he would have withdrawn. Because Tiger Woods is not Jack Nicklaus, I’m really glad that Adam Scott and Angel Cabrera both birdied the 18th in regulation on Sunday instead of bogeying it, to make Tiger’s final deficit more than two shots. But perhaps that says more about me than it says about Tiger.