The good news regarding updates to the Rules of Golf is that they only appear every four years, with the temptation to meddle with a book already full of sub-clauses and incessant eventualities likely to be strong among those who obsess about the deep complexities of the sport.
This should not be interpreted as a dig at David Rickman, the R&A’s director of rules and equipment. Rickman is, in fact, one of the most decent and respected individuals in golf. He does not make decisions for any reason other than the good of his sport, nor does he make any of them lightly. He just finds himself in the rather unenviable position of commonly explaining rule changes to a sizeable group of club golfers who aren’t inclined to listen. The ignorance of golfing rights and wrongs within those who play every week, understandably or otherwise, is alarmingly high.
Of the changes made to the Rules of Golf, as confirmed on Monday, the common analysis has seen high praise towards the R&A and its counterparts in the United States for simplifying matters and removing the heavy punishment of tournament disqualification when players have unwittingly signed for a certain score before being subject to retrospective punishment. Television evidence could have thrown up a breach, for example.
There is an alternative, and compelling, case. One of the most ludicrously po-faced assertions put forward by golfing experts is that players will never, ever seek to gain any advantage possible, never bend rules, never knowingly cheat. Golf, they say, is based on impeccable standards of behaviour. Men who cheat on their wives would never dream of doing likewise on the links.
This would separate golf from any other walk of life. It is also used at a time when stakes have never been higher, not so much for players at the summit of the game but for those scraping to make a living on Tour. Competition is fierce. Some household names have a lengthy list of previous for pushing boundaries to their benefit; just as those in every other sport do. That’s life.
Blissful ignorance is now a decent defence. Players can take their chances and plead with certainty – and can’t be contradicted, save the use of lie detectors – that they didn’t know an infraction had occurred if, and only if, they are later pulled up. Sound unlikely? Maybe so, but this scenario is entirely possible. It is a certainty to come to pass, with a two-stroke penalty the worst a player can suffer.
Draconian or not, hard and fast rules remove that scope for abuse and encourage participants to fully comprehend parameters. For all professionals may bemoan the ability of television to spot instances of foul play, it is that very coverage which increases their profile and heightens riches from sponsors. Players can’t have it both ways.
The upcoming and generous issuing of “proportional penalties” for artificial devices is also dubious; it should be the responsibility of any player before they participate in any competition to know whether such aids are allowed. Using a distance-measuring device where not sanctioned is no different to carrying 15 clubs in a bag.
Another key element to Monday’s announcement related to the banning of anchored putting, which has been widely trailed to kick in from the start of 2016. The merits and drawbacks of outlawing this form of stroke against other more significant problems in the game, have been widely debated but are now irrelevant.
Again, though, there is a suitable grey area for player wriggle room. Straightforward cases of deliberately anchoring a long putter to a point in the body are precisely that and therefore simple to identify. The technique can, however, be used more subtly and non-purposely. Who decides which is which?
This will inevitably trigger an incident in the not so distant future at a prominent tournament, where referees will be on hand to make a judgment. At amateur level, however, the responsibility for competitors to call out playing partners for what can verge towards the subjective is riddled with problems. In short, for such marginal cases it barely looks feasible.
There is an obvious solution to this putting business. It was one suggested by Tiger Woods directly to Peter Dawson, the now departed chief executive of the R&A – that the putter should always be at least equal to the shortest club in a player’s bag. Rickman, to his credit, dealt with the suggestion when the anchoring ban was first announced: “Immediate concerns are that it discriminates potentially on height,” he said. “It also would render some clubs non-conforming.
“It also, to some extent, misses the point, too. In other words, what we are really concerned about here is the anchoring of the club, and you can, although it’s more difficult, still achieve an anchored stroke with a short putter.”
Non-conforming clubs were a reality when the R&A swiftly banned trampoline-effect drivers. The same applied to various irons with grooves that were deemed illegal. The number of players who would be of a mind to anchor a 35-inch putter would render that topic all but irrelevant.
Deny it as they may, golf’s rule-makers give the impression this was a fudge to pacify equipment-makers who want to continue with the lucrative business of selling a gimmick in the form of broom-handled putters. The threat of law suits had the club been banned was regarded as a live one.
The lauding of these updates fails to consider real world reality. Golf may just have become even more complicated.
