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HONOLULU, HAWAII | What is it about the Patrick Reed rules episode that won’t go away?
Is it a conscience thing?
A sanctity-of-the-game thing?
Or is Reed – and (now we find out) his lawyer – just one of those people who find a way to make life difficult at times?
Whatever it is, and all of the above feels like the answer, the new year has arrived and what happened at December’s Hero World Challenge in the Bahamas has lingered like too much garlic.
At the Sony Open in Hawaii last week, it wasn’t the first topic of conversation but it had not been fully packed away like the Christmas decorations.
Rather than a continuation of a debate about what Reed may or may not have done deliberately in the Bahamas, where he was penalized two strokes for improving his lie in a sandy waste area, this feels like an existential moment for a game that believes in integrity the way flowers believe in the sun and the rain.
Golf doesn’t do controversy well because it’s not in its DNA. It’s the ultimate non-confrontation game, at least until Seve and Zinger got involved in the Ryder Cup all those years ago.
It’s a game built on doing the right thing, the rare endeavor that pushes its participants to look into their souls because that’s what helps separate golf from other sports. That’s not to say other sports sacrifice ethics in favor of competition, only that golf likes to wear its nobility like a logo.
What hasn’t changed are the core principles of the game. It’s as simple, really, as doing the right thing.
The game has a conscience and so do most who play it. How willing someone is to accept what that voice in their heads is telling them is a character issue and, without getting too sanctimonious, golf is built on that.
We’ve all been there. You’re half a fairway away from your playing partners in a friendly match and as you address your ball in the rough, it moves slightly. It didn’t change the shot you faced and you and your partner were 1 down at the time anyway. Did you do the right thing? You know.
Most of us were raised to understand that golfers police themselves, call their own penalties when necessary and believe the game is about the journey, no matter how wide ranging it may be. Not everyone plays that way and that is not meant as a shot at Reed, who is, however, familiar with playing the role of the accused (the latest instance of which his attorney reportedly tried to defuse by sending a cease-and-desist letter to Brandel Chamblee demanding the Golf Channel analyst quit repeating cheating allegations against Reed.)
As much as conscience may nag us, human nature is imperfect and it bleeds into golf at times. We all probably know someone who plays by their own rules and, honestly, most of the time we tolerate it even when we know we shouldn’t. Still, protecting the field is a pillar of competition.
Maybe what has stirred this pot more than others is as simple as personality. Or maybe it’s deeper than that.
The game, like everything else we know, is changing. On the professional level, there’s no such thing as an unreachable par-5, and if you’re not flying it 300 off the tee, you’re not playing the tour for very long. They’re not playing Sam Snead’s game anymore. They’re not playing Tom Kite’s game anymore, either.
For most of us, the game has lost some of its starch in good ways. Your club may win the battle against playing music on the course but it’s losing the war. The game’s social rules have been relaxed, though some of us will never appreciate the fashion sense of cargo shorts.
In some ways, that’s disconcerting. It’s like when the operating system on your phone updates and there’s that moment of angst when it seems nothing will ever be like it was before. We get through it, and golf is making itself better and more accessible these days. You can even make tee times on your newly updated phone.
Clubmakers can sell us all the new technology and ball companies can convince us that they’ve made just what we need to fight that slice and make our wedge shots stop more quickly. If they’ve figured out nothing else, they’ve figured out there’s a public willing to pay for results, whether real or imagined.
What can’t be bought is the essence of the game that has been cultivated across centuries. As much as it’s about the shots we hit, it’s just as much about the willingness to put ourselves out there, exposed by a merciless game.
It’s easy to be cynical, especially in this social-media existence where venom and verbosity are king. It has fueled the Reed conversation and, as with most things these days, it’s hard to know if anyone is listening to what they don’t want to hear.
There is a reminder in this moment that everyone should respect the game.
It should be the easiest part of golf.
E-Mail Ron
Top: Patrick Reed (left) and Jon Rahm shake hands after the second round of the BMW PGA Championship in September.