Tom Kite cautioning Grant Waite from taking an improper stance after a drop. Bob Jones's famous remark after calling a penalty on himself: "You might as well reward a man for not robbing a bank."

These are what come to mind after tempers cool down. Golf is Sportsmanship with a capital S, steeled on principles that other sports have long relinquished. Not that there haven't been incidents where golfers, and golf's own stewards, have not acted in the best traditions. (Don't get me started.)

American Walter Travis threatened British golfing supremacy in the 1904 British Amateur, then very much a major. In a telling incident described in Bob Labbance's biography, upon his arrival at Sandwich, the Old Man was promptly given a grossly incompetent caddy. During a morning match, Travis was soaked to the skin. He asked if he might change his clothes before his next match. No, he was told.

Despite the shabby treatment, Travis won the tournament. Indignation continued even at the trophy presentation. Lord Northbourne spoke for nearly an hour. Barely mentioning Travis, he said, finally: "Never, never since the days of Caesar has the British nation been subjected to such humiliation, and we fervently hope that history may not repeat itself."

But, and this will surprise many, the humiliation might never have happened were it not for a kindness accorded Travis by, of all people, an opponent.

In a match against James Robb, twice runner-up, Travis's incompetent caddie picked up his ball. Instead of losing the hole, as the rules plainly stipulated, the ball was replaced. Robb let the matter drop.

Imagine that. Imagine the outrage today were an American opponent to so blithely breach the rules in a major.

In the 1957 British Open, with a three-stroke lead, Bobby Locke failed to return his ball to its original position on the final green. What happened? An immediate DQ?

The championship committee took little time in determining that Locke had gained nothing from the mistake. It was a decision made "in equity and the spirit of the game."

How quaint that seems against the backdrop of Loch Lomond and Brookline.

Then there's Jack Nicklaus at the 1969 Ryder Cup. It was the closest match in Ryder Cup history, Jack's first, and it came down to the last match. On the final green, Nicklaus conceded a knee-knocker to Tony Jacklin. The two teams tied, and the U.S. retained the Cup, but, but he could've - by the letter of the law - made Jacklin putt.

"I don't think you would have missed that putt," Jack told him, "but under these circumstances I would never give you the opportunity."

He wrote later: "The reason was that I believed good sportsmanship should be as much a part of the Ryder Cup as great competition."

Pat Bradley, you're no Jack Nicklaus.

Hearth-felt thanks to the South Texas Section of the PGA of America for their considerate selection of a work in progress as the winner of their 2000 Media/PR Award. Consider me suitably chuffed.

Swing Thoughts - Volume I
Swing Thoughts - Volume II
Swing Thoughts - Volume III
Swing Thoughts - Volume IV
Swing Thoughts - Volume V