The Sandbagger

I want to tell a story about a guy I met years ago. Nice guy. Very friendly. He was one of the first members I met when I started a new pro job in New Jersey. Pretty solid player.

The course was a public golf course. The members were mostly blue-collar guys. Every Saturday and Sunday morning they would arrive around 8:00am and start playing cards. They were a raucous, every other word an f-bomb kind of crowd. But they were great guys.

The guy I mentioned at the beginning was named Art. Art was in his early sixties. A quick look at the club handicaps showed Art was a pretty decent player carrying a 10-handicap.

When the other guys started lining up the morning matches, I quickly learned there was always an argument as to who had to play against Art. Whoever was stuck having Art as his opponent was never a happy camper. In fact, other colorful words were sprinkled into the f-bombs.

One morning, I asked one of the guys why no one wanted to have Art as his opponent.

“He seems like such a nice guy,” I said.

The member gave me a funny look. “He’s a f#$!ing sandbagger!”

One of the two dreaded “S” words in golf. Sandbagger. Every course has at least one. Everyone knows who they are. The sandbagger knows who he is. And while the sandbagger should be embarrassed or at least sheepish, the sandbagger actually tends to be proud to be known as a sandbagger.

If you don’t know what a sandbagger is, here’s a quick definition. A sandbagger is a golfer who intentionally inflates their handicap in order to win tournaments or matches against other golfers. For instance, a sandbagger might have a 20 handicap but shoot a gross score in a tournament in the 80-85 range ending up with a net 60-65. In Art’s case, he had a 10-handicap but was actually closer to a scratch player.

A good sandbagger will make himself look like his handicap at certain moments in a round. The really good ones will make you question if they are a sandbagger at all when they throw shots intentionally. In Art’s case, he wasn’t good at hiding when he was throwing shots. Worse, I believe he wanted you to know he was throwing shots. I know because I witnessed it firsthand.

Art invited me to join his men’s league for a special beat the pro day at a course in Lancaster, PA. I agreed. Everyone would compete net against my gross score. Each player contributed to the pot. Anyone who beat my score split the pot. If no one beat my score, I won the pot.

I was paired with Art and two other players. I quickly saw Art was not very long but was very accurate with a precise short game and strong putter. After 6 holes, I was 2-under. Art was tied with me…gross. I was 3 behind net. I bogeyed the 7th hole and was suddenly 5 behind as Art made a par net birdie.

Then came the 8th hole.

The 8th was a mid-length par 3. As I was playing the championship tees, I hit first and knocked it over the back of the green leaving myself a difficult up and down. Art hit his tee shot about 10 yards short. He proceeded to hit the fattest pitch shot I have ever seen. His wedge struck the ground at least 4 inches behind the ball. The ball barely moved.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “I haven’t done that in years.”

The next shot was equally as bad only this time he struck the ball cleanly in the equator skulling the ball across the green near where I was waiting to hit my second shot.

“I guess I over-compensated for the fat shot,” he said.

Even though this was the first time I had played with Art, I could see both shots were intentional. He had been very precise with all his pitch and chip shots. The man had obvious skill.

We both hit our next shots on and two-putted. Bogey for me. Triple bogey for Art. His five-shot lead was down to 3 shots.

I birdied the 9th. Art made a par to hold a 2-shot lead. I was 2-under at the turn. Art was 1 over par gross.

The back 9 played out pretty much the same. I shot a 3-under par 69 for the day, parring the last three holes. Art beat me net by 3 shots carding a 4-over par 76 gross. He led by 7 with 3 holes to play. He double bogeyed the 16th and 18th holes (he got a shot on each) with similar shots he hit on the 8th hole.

Even more miraculous, Art was the only player to beat me that day. Art pocketed $400.

I learned later Art had been banned from tournaments throughout southern New Jersey due to his reputation as a sandbagger. Even with such a bad reputation, Art didn’t seem to care. He kept on sandbagging.

Sandbaggers ruin tournaments for all levels of players. They are cheaters. They are unwilling to compete to win on their own abilities. Instead, they boost their egos by inflating their handicaps to ensure victory. Unfortunately, there are a lot of Arts roaming the links. Don’t be an Art.

As always, be thankful when you get to play this amazing game. Be grateful for every shot. Appreciate every moment on the course. Now, go golf!