The wave of indignity towards Reed has become more fascinating than the essentially minor matter that caused it
Twelve years have passed since a banking executive took a prestigious
golf club in the Highlands of
Scotland to court after being suspended for allegedly cheating in a match. Decades earlier in the same part of the country, an individual collected a trophy for a competition he hadn’t played in. Upon the reality of that case coming to light, the gentleman in question emigrated to Canada. The common thread for these, and scores of other cases, is that the c-word even when attached to amateur golfers has potentially life-changing repercussions. Cheat on your partner by all means – brag about it in the clubhouse, even – but don’t mark a golf ball closer to the hole.
For Patrick Reed, an end-of-year jaunt to the Bahamas has ended up resonating beyond a guaranteed pay day, some sunshine and preparation for the following week’s President’s Cup. By the time Reed took to the course in Royal Melbourne – in an event hardly depicted by the smell of cordite – he had been called out by a member of the opposition team and suffered cat-calling from galleries.