The Etiquette Crisis That Nobody’s Really Talking About

After 35 years covering professional golf—and having walked 72 holes with some of the game’s greatest competitors—I’ve come to believe that etiquette might be the truest measure of a golfer’s character. Not their handicap. Not their swing speed. Their behavior when nobody’s keeping score.

A recent piece making the rounds touches on something I’ve watched deteriorate incrementally across the amateur game, and what strikes me is how preventable all of it actually is. We’re not talking about technical violations or rules lawyering. We’re talking about basic respect for the people around you and the course beneath your feet. The stuff your grandfather probably didn’t need written down.

The Little Things That Say Everything

In my years caddying for Tom Lehman in the ’90s, I watched a master class in how a professional conducts himself on the course. It wasn’t flashy. It was quiet competence mixed with genuine consideration. Tom would repair divots before moving to the next shot. He’d stand in the right spot on the green. He’d keep conversation minimal during play. These weren’t rules imposed by the PGA Tour—they were just how you played the game if you had any respect for it.

What I’m seeing now at club level is a slow erosion of these fundamentals, and frankly, it worries me. Not because golf is collapsing, but because it suggests something deeper: a generational gap in understanding why etiquette matters in the first place.

“This is our favourite hobby and time spent at the golf club is to be cherished and enjoyed. Not listening to you running through your birdies and bogeys and everything else in between.”

That line hit me like a well-struck 5-iron. I’ve sat through countless post-round meals where one person absolutely decimates the social experience by narrating their entire round, hole by hole. The glazed expressions around the table are unmistakable. What’s fascinating is that the person doing the talking genuinely doesn’t understand why nobody’s engaged. They think they’re sharing something valuable. They’re not.

The Pace of Play Connection

Here’s where my experience on tour gives me some perspective that club golfers might miss: pace of play isn’t just about speed. It’s about efficiency born from courtesy. When I covered the 2019 Masters, I watched Brooks Koepka’s group move with surgical precision. Why? Because every player knew exactly where to stand, what their next shot would be, and how to execute without wasting motion. That’s etiquette disguised as pace.

The article nails something I’ve been preaching for years about club positioning:

“Do all of us a favour and have a quick look at where the next tee is… Don’t just leave them 20 yards short of the green, putt out and then ask what’s now happening – before scuttling back to your clubs and driving the group behind nuts.”

This is such a simple thing. Having caddied hundreds of rounds, I can tell you that 30 seconds of awareness prevents 10 minutes of bottleneck for the groups behind you. It’s not complicated. It’s just attention.

The Repair Pitchmark Reality

I’ve walked 15 Masters, and every single year I watch the amateur day or pro-am events where the disparity in course care is staggering. The pros repair their marks instantly. The amateurs often don’t even see them. What’s changed? I think it’s simply that we’ve lost the narrative about why it matters. Greenkeepers are invisible in modern golf. Their work is taken for granted. But those pitchmarks—those are scars you’re leaving for the next player and for the people who maintain the course.

The tone of the source material suggests some frustration from someone who’s been playing for decades. I get it. I feel it too. But what I’ve learned from three and a half decades of covering this game is that frustration without context just sounds like an old guy yelling at clouds.

Where We’re Actually Getting It Right

Here’s what gives me hope: I’m seeing younger players—especially women entering the game through development programs—who actually understand etiquette intuitively. They’re not being told to repair pitchmarks; they just do it. They’re not being lectured about standing behind someone’s putt; they know it’s uncomfortable. The game itself teaches these lessons if you’re paying attention.

The real issue is the middle ground—casual club players aged 40-65 who learned some of these lessons but not all, who sometimes remember and sometimes don’t, who might not understand why it matters beyond “that’s how you’re supposed to do it.”

“If golf all began again tomorrow you would imagine that things would look very different… at least we’re moving in the right direction these days.”

That’s the encouraging note I want to end on. We’re not in decline. We’re recalibrating. Dress codes are becoming more inclusive. Pace-of-play initiatives are working at tour level. And if we’re honest about the etiquette gaps—like this piece does—then we have a chance to actually address them.

Golf survived the pandemic. It’s surviving the LIV questions. It’ll survive the etiquette reckoning too. But only if we remember that the game is fundamentally about respect—for the course, for the people around you, and for the tradition that’s carried it to us.