This was the most memorable piece of humor I heard from a caddie during a round this year. It starts with a question that draws you in: "Do you know 'sapo' and 'gongpo'?" Sapo refers to "four madams" (sa-mo-nim, a respectful term for married women). Caddies say they get quite nervous on days when they have to handle the golf bags of four madams because these players demand so much. But there's something even more fearsome than sapo, and that's gongpo. Gongpo is golf slang for "four princesses." The humor captures how difficult it is to manage a round when four young female golfers all expect to be treated like royalty.
Korean golfers receive polar opposite evaluations. First, foreigners view Korean golfers as "passionate" — meaning they are more serious about golf than anyone else. But this passionate side can also work against them.
Many problems arise because the supply of places to play golf cannot keep up with golfers' passion. With so many golfers to accommodate, it's not easy to maintain courses in top condition. Sometimes you have to hit from fairways riddled with divot marks, and sometimes you have to attack absurd pin positions. On top of that, golfers are always racing against time. Time is the most contentious issue between golfers and caddies. Caddies want golfers to play even a little faster, while golfers want to take as much time as possible for a good shot. There's a wry joke about this: the fastest golfers in the world are the ones in the group behind you, and the slowest golfers are the ones in the group ahead. It's humor born from everyone being pressed for time and thinking only from their own perspective. If there were more generous intervals between groups, such jokes would never have emerged.
During weekend rounds, you often have to do what's called "sign play" at par-3 holes — hitting your shot in front of complete strangers watching you. It's not exactly a pleasant experience. Of course, this too is part of the self-portrait of Korean golf courses, created by the constant time pressure.
Many domestic golf courses feature an unusual abundance of bunkers — a "sea of bunkers," so to speak. As a result, bunkers are covered with footprints, left by time-pressed golfers who hastily raked the sand before rushing to their next shot.
Fighting both course conditions and time means many weekend golfers get labeled as "bad golfers." The prime examples are slow players and "touch men" — those who improve their ball's lie before hitting. When pressed for time, anyone who's even slightly behind can be branded a slow player. And anyone can feel the urge to "touch" the ball when a well-struck shot ends up in a spot with poor turf. It's extremely difficult to hit a shot when the ball is more than half buried in the grass. In fact, at professional golf tournaments, players rarely have to hit from poor course conditions. Not only is the course prepared to pristine standards for the competition, but areas in bad condition are designated as ground under repair, allowing players to move the ball. Moreover, if rain makes the course soggy, local rules are sometimes created to allow players to place the ball. At The Masters, considered the world's greatest tournament, players almost never have to hit from divot marks.
In an interview with an R&A official some time ago, I found one explanation particularly impressive: golf rules are not made to torment golfers but to help them. In times like now, when course conditions are poor, it's wise to modify the rules to allow playing from an improved lie.
Golf, played after carving out precious time, paying costs higher than almost anywhere else in the world, and rushing long distances without complaint — should be enjoyable. And golfers who do all this deserve the best treatment.
