Golf’s Dumb Unwritten Rules

Since golf’s inception, the rulebook has been under constant scrutiny by players, viewers, and students of the game. The written rules have been amended continuously to fit the current state of the game, particularly in the last couple of decades.

But apparently an actual rulebook wasn’t enough.

Over the years, golfers have created a second set of rules. Nobody knows exactly where they came from. Nobody voted on them. Yet somehow we all know them and, for the most part, continue to follow them.

Some make sense. Some absolutely do not.

But one thing is for sure. If they were that important, someone would have written them down.

Here are some of golf’s dumbest unwritten rules.

Hole in one buys drinks.

Let’s start with the one I’m most passionate about despite it affecting me the least. Say you hit the shot of your life. A dart. While the ball is in the air you start calling for it to get in the hole way earlier than you should. Then the impossible happens. It hits once, releases, and drops. Hole-in-one.

You celebrate on the tee and get to the green faster than you ever have, retrieve your ball from the hole, and raise it in the air for the admiration of any neighboring houses and people waiting on the next box.

Then reality sets in.

Drinks on you.

When this tradition came to be, it probably wasn’t so ridiculous. You bought drinks for your group and got out of there for 25 cents max. But times have changed.

Now the expectation has gotten out of control. Not only are you getting drinks for your group, but the entire clubhouse wants to get in on the action. Everyone in there, scratch golfers and thirty handicaps alike, is ready to take a freebee. The guy who can’t break 100 and had one par putt in his last seven rounds surely deserves a drink for your flushed eight iron on seventeen. A microcosm of society’s entitlement.

This has never impacted me directly, but you better believe when I do make that elusive ace, I’ll be writing it down on the card and paying my the rest of my group hush money.

Don’t step on a birdie.

The honor system on the tee makes sense in theory, but in an age when we are trying to move things along to get back to our off-course business, it’s working against us. I’ve been almost exclusively playing out of turn from tee to green for the last two decades and I have no intention of stopping.

Typically, this is still honored under one condition: a birdie is made.

“Don’t step on a birdie.” the guy who just made a nine tells you.

The problem comes when the guy who made birdie is still 40 yards from the tee box, cleaning his wedge, updating his scorecard, and texting his wife that he’s quitting his job to go pro while three other people are standing there ready to hit. We’re all just supposed to wait because tradition dictates that the conquering hero gets to go first.

Absolutely not.

Your birdie earned you a three on the scorecard. It did not earn you the right to bring the golf course to a halt. If I have driver in my hand and you’re still looking for a tee, I’m hitting.

Breakfast balls.

Maybe you didn’t have time to warm up. Or maybe you just suck. So the group agrees on the first tee that you get breakfast balls. Because the round doesn’t begin until everyone is satisfied with how it began.

And we’ve even given it a respectable name to make ourselves feel better about it. Nobody says, “I hit one out of bounds, so I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen.” That would sound ridiculous. Call it a breakfast ball, though, and suddenly it’s a cherished golf tradition.

The strangest part is how quickly everyone agrees to forget. You can pump your first ball into someone’s backyard, reload, shoot 79 and spend the rest of the afternoon telling people you broke 80. Your playing partners become accomplices. Nobody mentions the first ball. There was no first ball.

Handicaps

Ok this isn’t really an unwritten rule, but can we talk about the handicap system? How someone can work for years, get their index down to a two and then get smoked by a twenty because they’re giving them a shot a hole they made three pars today. It’s like getting a raise and finding out you’re actually making less now because you’re in a new tax bracket.

You put in the time to get better. You practice. You take lessons. You learn how to get up and down. You finally become a legitimately good golfer, and have the documentation to prove it.

Congratulations. Your reward is watching a 19-handicap take the hole with a net par after hitting his tee shot into the trees.

And somehow you’re supposed to accept this as fair competition.

This is why gross events are the way to truly compete. I’d rather get dusted by a guy who shot 65 than lose one down to a guy who shot 95 because the math says he beat me.

Two Inches Short is a place where amateur golfers can unapologetically be themselves. It’s where we can all relate to the greatest game ever played at a level we can all understand.

Follow Two Inches Short on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook!

“Making triple bogey from the middle of the fairway isn’t just about skill, it’s a lifestyle.”