This article was machine-translated from the Korean original. Read the Korean original
01Prologue: The Gentleman's Mask Ruthlessly Stripped Away the Moment Money Is At Stake
On a weekend morning, on a teeing ground filled with the fresh scent of grass, the men face each other with the faces of the most affectionate and close friends in the world. The sight of them patting each other on the shoulder and exchanging jokes—saying things like, "Hey, long time no see! The weather is crazy today," or "Take it easy, I haven't been able to practice lately so I've become a total 100-stroke golfer"—appears like a quintessential example of strong friendship and sportsmanship. It is the confident departure onto the golf course of men who have cried and laughed together for decades, dating back to their school days in their teens or their early days as professionals in their twenties, and who proudly boast that "we are true friends who understand each other just by looking into each other's eyes."
However, the moment the caddy places the first hole tee and asks, "How would you like to proceed with the game today?" and bundles of 10,000-won bills start coming out of his pocket, the beautiful prelude to friendship turns into a battleground of brutal psychological warfare and a struggle for survival.
The moment a "betting golf" game is set up on the Korean golf course, with stakes of 10,000 won per stroke or double bets on the front and back nine, the masks of morality and gentlemanliness that men have built up over decades are mercilessly stripped away. The sight of chairmen and presidents—usually bold, gentle, and generous in opening their wallets for friends—going crazy over a mere tens of thousands of won to cheat on their scores, fake the movement of balls on the grass, and miserably reveal the depths of their character is the most common and sorrowful tragedy witnessed on Korean golf courses.
Established golf media outlets, which merely glorify social events between corporate sponsors and golf equipment companies while parroting advice to "share deeper friendships through golf," never mention the ugly backstory behind these money battles and falling out. This is because, for media outlets that must fill their wallets by emptying readers' pockets, golf must always be a sophisticated and harmless hobby.
However, Club14, which dissects the hypocrisy and pretense of 5 million golfers with a sharp microscope, rejects this rule of silence. Today’s article is a scathing exposé column that vividly and realistically uncovers the '4 worst types of human villains' that cause friends of decades to sever ties over a mere tens of thousands of won in weekend betting golf, and presents cold-blooded strategies on the field to avoid losing both money and character.
02Type 1: "How many strokes did I take earlier?" — The habitual stroke-washing type
The first and most annoying and petty type of person that leads to a breakup in a betting game is the "habitual score washing machine." They suffer from a terrible case of amnesia just as the ball lands in the hole and it is time to record the scorecard.
My playing partners watched with wide eyes as I hit my driver tee shot into the out-of-bounds (OB) area, took my fourth shot from the OB tee, struggled in a bunker near the green, barely managed to get it on, and finished with a three-putt. No matter how you calculate it, it is clearly a 'triple bogey (+3)' or a 'double bogey'.
However, when it comes to settling the scores, nonsense boldly spills from their mouths. "Hey caddie, I got a bogey (+1) earlier, right? I hit my second shots well on the front nine."
When his companions point out the fact in disbelief, saying, "Hey, you hit an out-of-bounds ball earlier," he comes up with all sorts of petty excuses to lower his score, saying, "Oh, was I? No, I didn't hit it from the out-of-bounds tee, I hit it from a provisional ball. So it's a double bogey (+2)."
Watching those attempt to negotiate strokes with caddies and fellow players just to avoid losing a single 10,000-won bill, the dignity of a CEO discussing multi-million-won business deals in society vanishes, leaving only the image of a shrewd merchant from a marketplace. This type of player, who wears down their companions' mental fortitude by cheating on their scores on every hole, is the main culprit causing team members' stress levels to explode throughout the weekend.
03Type 2: "Here's the ball!" — The magic-working 'Alkkagi' master doll
The second type consists of 'Alkkagi masters' who go beyond cheating on scores to commit physical fraud. Their sleight of hand is so sophisticated and audacious that it rivals that of professional gamblers or magicians.
When their ball slices into the deep rough or thicket, the caddies and playing partners scour the area to find it. After pushing through thorny bushes for over five minutes, everyone gives up and turns to leave, saying, "Hey, I can't see it. Just treat it as a lost ball, take the penalty, and hit it." Just then, an energetic shout erupts from deep within the woods. "Hey! I found my ball here! It's standing on some incredible grass where the fairway is perfectly visible!"
When you run over to look, it is unbelievable. The ball, which should have been buried in the dirt deep in the bushes, is lying demurely on the flat grass outside the rough, as if someone had placed it nicely.
This is the most heinous fraudulent technique in the golf world: "ball dropping." It involves stealthily dropping an extra ball, which was kept in a pocket beforehand, onto the ground and then pretending to have found one's original ball. Alternatively, when one's ball is stuck behind tree roots and cannot be swung, a player might use the "toe recovery" technique—kicking the ball with their foot to move it to a good spot on bare ground while their playing partners aren't looking.
The moment you witness a man over fifty hiding in the bushes, kicking a ball, and hatching eggs from his pocket in an attempt to win a bet of just a few tens of thousands of won, the human trust and respect you have built up over time shatter like dust, leading you to make a firm resolution that you will "never join forces with this person again."
04Type 3: "It hits well during practice" — The 'fake single' type who only plays with their mouth
The third type consists of the "fake singles" (fake advanced players), the epitome of bluffing. At drinking parties or clubhouse breakfasts the night before a round, they dominate the atmosphere by endlessly recounting stories of their past personal best scores. "Remember I shot a 75 at this course last year? I haven't been practicing lately, but my body remembers, so I'm definitely treating today."
However, the very first swing form he takes from the teeing ground of the first hole reeks of shaming. His driver shots, tensed up with stiff shoulders, mercilessly crash into the out-of-bounds area, while his iron shots frequently hit the ground behind the ball, digging up the grass left and right.
Even though the scorecards have already well exceeded 50 strokes by the end of the first nine holes, their mouths do not stop. "Ah, that's strange. My ball speed usually comes out easily at 70 m/s at the driving range. It's just because the lights from the cart path sponsors were blinding today," and "Ugh, the caddy read the lie the wrong way," they say, spreading blame and excuses to everyone around them.
The real disgrace is the change in attitude when the bet money starts to be lost exponentially.
As the pride of the 'single-digit handicap golfer' he had boasted of being is tarnished and 10,000-won bills keep getting emptied from his pocket, his face gradually hardens, and he starts snapping at even light jokes from his playing partners. When someone makes a remark to lighten the mood, he turns his face on the spot and says, "Hey, are you laughing at my swing? This is a betting game, so show some manners." He is the worst type of inconsiderate jerk who cannot admit defeat caused by his own lack of skill and bluff, and who sulks petty over a few tens of thousands of won, making the atmosphere tense throughout the entire 18 holes.
05Type 4: "I left my wallet behind" — Settlement Time Submarine Type
The fourth and final type are the "settlement time submarines" who appear during the clubhouse settlement time, the final destination of betting golf. These are the same people who were grinning from ear to ear, shouting, "I'll finish today and treat everyone to eel!" while happily emptying their playing partners' wallets throughout the 18 holes. However, when the tables turn in the second half and they lose money, or when the time comes to settle the caddie fees and half-restaurant expenses, they display incredible acting skills.
From the moment they enter the clubhouse locker room, they stealthily walk away while pretending to answer a phone, or deliberately drag out the shower room and do not come out until their companions have finished paying.
When a bill worth hundreds of thousands of won for an after-party is placed on the table at a restaurant, he suddenly rummages through his bag and hides his card, saying, "Oh, I left my wallet in the car trunk. If Mr. Kim pays first, I'll send the money to you right away via mobile banking later."
And even on the way home or during the week, the money promised to be sent later remains nowhere to be seen. When a friend, unable to bear it any longer, sends a message saying, "Hey, you didn't send the 150,000 won settlement from last golf," they reply, "Oh right! I forgot. Sorry, sorry," only to delay it again for a few days. Watching these people stage a petty small-scale financial scam(?) against friends of decades just to avoid spending a mere few hundred thousand won, men quietly press the block button on KakaoTalk, saying, "I feel like I've seen the bottom of their character over a few pennies, and I've completely lost all affection for them."
06Editor's Note: The mirror reflected by a single 10,000-won bill
Golf is an honest sport. The ball travels exactly as far as the trajectory of the club I swing, and a golfer's character and dignity are perfected in the process of silently accepting the result. Playing golf with friends for small bets on the weekend can be a delightful seasoning that adds tension to the round.
However, the moment that single 10,000-won bill passes through my wallet, the mirror of greed, ugliness, and pettiness hidden deep within the men's hearts is starkly reflected onto the field.
Those who hatch eggs in the bushes to protect a few tens of thousands of won, cheat on their scores, and scratch their friends' hearts are no longer gentlemen playing golf, but merely gamblers crawling on the grass.
To all you men tonight who can't sleep because you regret losing money to a friend in a weekend golf bet, or conversely, who are smoking a cigarette because you've lost all respect for your friend due to their disgraceful behavior: On your next round, stop scheming your swing just to win money, and instead propose a simple and honest 'stroke play' that protects both your wallet and your friend's character.
Rather than sweeping up tens of thousands of won in stakes and showing off, your confident handshake on the 18th hole green—honestly taking off your gloves and saying, "My equipment and score were disappointing today, but I was really happy to be with you, my friend"—is truly the great 'gentleman's class' of real adults that Club14 aims for.
