Can we still trust our leaders?

The cheating scandal that rocked the Mango Tee 38 tournament didn’t just ruin a weekend of golf. It unmasked the true character of those who govern us.

Former Lian, Batangas Vice Mayor Ronin Leviste — son of former Batangas Vice Governor Mark Leviste — and Camarines Sur Governor LRay Villafuerte found themselves in trouble after the board of directors of Alabang Country Club ordered them to return the trophies they had been earlier awarded for their “highly unusual and statistically improbable” game scores.

Leviste declared that his handicap index was 24, but he fired an 8-over par 80 for an incredible 52 points on the first day of action en route to emerging as the lowest net champion.

Villafuerte, on the other hand, had a relatively “believable” score, but his playing partner, Edward Francisco, was said to be a licensed professional, making him ineligible to compete in a club tournament that is exclusively for amateur golfers and high handicappers.

That was why when Leviste climbed the stage to receive his trophy during the awarding ceremony, he was showered with a chorus of boos from his fellow golfers who were tired of seeing someone emerge victorious through lies, power plays, manipulation, and deception.

Golf is a gentleman’s game; it thrives on the honor system.

Unlike other sports — say boxing, volleyball and basketball, where there are referees and game officials to track every move — golf relies on the players themselves to police their performance. You penalize yourself. You play the ball where it lies. You sign your own scorecard. In short, you are the guardian of your integrity. Whatever you score reveals not just your game, but your character.

After what happened in Alabang, the uncomfortable question emerges: Can we still trust our leaders? If a public official is willing to manipulate the results of a low-stakes club tournament to clinch a title that will boost his ego, what is he capable of when billions in public funds and real political power are at stake?

What happened at the Mango Tee was not just a simple case of sandbagging or a deliberate misrepresentation of a handicap to gain an unfair advantage. It was a metaphor for the cancer that has been infecting our society — the very reason we have widespread poverty, high unemployment, poor infrastructure, and deep-rooted corruption that fuel crime and inequality.

But what makes the Mango Tee cheating issue truly controversial was the unacceptable power play behind the scenes. Mark Leviste also serves as vice chairman of the event’s organizing committee and Villafuerte — if his accusation is correct — claimed that Leviste tried to influence the outcome of the investigation and implicated him in the biggest scandal to shake one of the country’s most prestigious clubs to its foundation.

Villafuerte’s defense was a tactic torn out of a seasoned politician’s playbook. Instead of issuing a humble apology, he sought a “clarificatory resolution” and cried that he was just dragged into the mess.

Well, some might argue that it was “just a game.” No, it was not. As actor Edu Manzano stressed in a social media post, this has been the practice. Corruption doesn’t start with a massive bribe. It starts with a small, dishonest act that people tolerate because it is “just a game.”

That’s why when the golfers who packed the Alabang Country Club clubhouse on that fateful Saturday evening thunderously booed, they didn’t do it because they wanted to embarrass Leviste. They did it to protest the culture of impunity where rules do not apply to those with a title or position — to the leaders who govern us.

Trust isn’t earned with a title or a smooth PR campaign. It is earned through consistent, honest action — regardless of how small or big. If our politicians can’t be trusted to truthfully declare their scores or handicaps, then they have no business running the affairs of our country.

The Mango Tee scandal further opened our eyes to the rampant cheating that’s going on in this country — on and off the fairway. It also teaches us to be vigilant, to scream our lungs out with a thunderous boo whenever a cheater climbs the stage to bask in stolen glory.