Golf Rules

This column comes out every Saturday except Lent's Black Saturday when there's no issue of The STAR; staffers take a break Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Which means you get a short respite from depressing front-page news. Which is good. And read no Erap jokes from me. Which is even better.

Not that I feel like printing another Erap joke anyhow. No, sir. Not today. Not when the 2nd ERAP CUP, the subject of my last column two weeks back, raised P35 million for charity. Thirty-five million smackeroos! Wow! Hats off to all the organizers and generous donors!

Did you see photos of the event? Even my fellow columnists Father Reuter and Art Borjal were shown receiving from President Erap three and two million pesos, respectively, for their benevolent projects. I never dreamed so much money could be raised from a round of golf!

As for the elite "invitees" inveigled to play in that awfully expensive tournament, I'm told that they all seemed to have enjoyed the game and awards party immensely - with the likely exception of the eight who were disqualified for failing to sign their score cards.

But the Rules of Golf apply equally to all -- to borrow the President's catch phrase - walang kaibigan, walang kamag-anak, walang kumpare (no friend, no family, no compadre).

Commenting on the Purisima caper at the bar exams, Rene Saguisag was moved to exclaim, "This is a nation truly without any ethical compass or moral stamina" - a blanket scolding from which we must exempt avid devotees of the centuries-old sport out of Scotland's foggy links. Always, the Rules of Golf, as approved by the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews and the United States Golf Association, are strictly enforced. And Pinoy players know that and accept it. If there are arguments, they concern the meaning of a rule, never the wisdom of applying it. Golfers like the idea that every golf hole on this planet is governed by the same worldwide code, realizing that failure to observe it would result in anarchic confusion.

Let me make one thing clear, though: no cheating was involved in the disqualification of the eight players; they simply forgot to sign their cards, which broke Rule 6-6b, on Signing and Returning Card:

"After completion of the round, the competitor should check his score for each hole and settle any doubtful points with the Committee. He shall ensure that the marker has signed the card, countersign the card himself and return it to the committee as soon as possible. PENALTY FOR BREACH OF RULE 6-6b: DISQUALIFICATION"

And so, sadly, the eight had to suffer a DQ. In golf, at least, we Pinoys believe in the Rule of Law.

The West calls it a "whiff"- Filipinos prefer the more poetic "butterfly." In any case, completely missing a perfectly motionless ball (quite comical to the casual onlooker) is indeed one humiliating thing we'd rather forget. Which is the subject of today's Q&A.

Q. [from Angel Lazaro, Jr., Fax 924-1887] Is it wrong to forget to count a butterfly?

A. A butterfly counts as a stroke, since a "stroke" is defined as "the forward movement of the club made with the intention of fairly striking at and moving the ball..." Suppose you whiffed the ball on the first tee and forgot to count it as a stroke in your score for that hole, thus getting a par, say, instead of a bogey. In stroke play, you have till the end of the round, and before turning in your card, to make the necessary correction otherwise you get a DQ. Rule 6-6d states in part: "The competitor is responsible for the correctness of the score recorded for each hole on his card. If he returns a score for any hole lower than actually taken, he shall be disqualified..."

The Ateneo Law Alumni Golf Association- dubbed ALAGA for short by its founder, the late Court of Appeals Justice Louie Javellana-had a tournament yesterday, April 28, at Alabang. Too bad I couldn't make it. But I'll never forget two ALAGA events among the few I managed to join. One was held at Tat Filipinas, where I scored an ace with a driver, and was razzed mercilessly for it afterwards. ("Pare," they chortled, "'wag mong sabihin driver - nakakahiya!") The second was played at Alabang, where I put four successive shots in the drink and ended up with a big fat 13. (Averted eyes, pursed lips and suppressed snickers.) I don't know which was worse - my fellow Ateneans' open jeers at TAT or secret smirks at Alabang. Anyway, I miss you all, guys, especially those whose faces I remember from our post-WWII Quonset-hut classrooms at the old Padre Faura campus. I hope to play with you again soon.

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