Golf has invariably prided itself on heritage, with its reverence for history presented as proof of its purity. All too often, however, the adherence to customs comes with firmness; rules devised for another era are enforced without question, even when the game itself has evolved. The age of hickory shafts and balata balls has come and gone, and still its sense and sensibility — or, to be precise, lack thereof — seem to cast a shadow over modern athletes, global audiences, and multimillion-dollar tournaments. Instead of letting it breathe, its supposed guardians wind up strangling it with sheer illogic.
The other day, the ridiculous rigidity was on display at the US Mid-Amateur Championship; Paul Mitzel lost a playoff simply because his caddie accepted a short cart ride to the 20th hole. Admittedly, the book is clear: under Model Local Rule G-6, neither player nor caddie may ride in motorized transportation unless approved beforehand. And in the absence of the latter, the penalty, automatic and final, was loss of hole — and, therefore, loss of match. It did not matter that the ride conferred no competitive edge. Never mind that he and opponent Ryan O’Rear had battled through an even contest deep into sudden death. Forget about the skill both players displayed en route. When the battlesmoke cleared, the set-to turned on the letter of a law fit for circumstances far removed from the one at hand.
As all and sundry concede with no small measure of frustration, the disservice is not uncommon. For years, decades even, the game has clung to regulations that, in their application, fail to grasp the realities of competition. Infractions invisible to the naked eye but caught by high-definition cameras, or penalties that hinge on clothing etiquette rather than actual play, point to the same problem: a rulebook that confuses rigidity with integrity. Golf’s institutions seem to believe that strict enforcement safeguards tradition. Quite the opposite; the sport is thereafter reduced to absurdity from the vantage point of the very quarters it seeks to draw in.
The irony is that golf has shown it can adapt when it so desires. Relaxed exhibition formats, team competitions, and simulator golf, for instance, have drawn in new audiences precisely because of their more casual nature. And still the governing bodies move haltingly, unwilling to reconcile their pursuit of growth with their insistence on rules that belong to another time. The result is a widening gap between the sport as it should be played and the contest as it is policed from on high, where a cart ride can eclipse hours upon hours of skillful play.
Granted, golf is enriched by its roots. That said, there is a notable distinction between honoring history and being imprisoned by history. If the sport continues to define itself by blind adherence to antiquated rules, it risks alienating the very players and fans it needs most. The lesson imparted by the cruel twist of fate Mitzel suffered at the Mid-Amateur goes beyond his loss. Frankly, the game deserves better than to keep being pushed backward by its own antiquated hand.
Anthony L. Cuaycong has been writing Courtside since BusinessWorld introduced a Sports section in 1994. He is a consultant on strategic planning, operations and human resources management, corporate communications, and business development.