Admittedly, this writer loves golf, but the game does not love me back. Although I do enjoy winning sometimes in friendly golf tournaments, I would be the first to tell you my dismal score out of jest. This writing space is not meant for my golf game, but since the recent controversy surrounding the Mango Tee Invitational has transformed a weekend tournament into a civic debate, I’m compelled to talk about it, just like any other avid amateur golfer.

The facts, as widely discussed, are stark. The champion reportedly posted a gross score of 80 over 18 holes, but what stunned many was the application of a 24 handicap, producing a net score of 56. In competitive golf, a net 56 is not merely impressive; it borders on extraordinary. It suggests playing 16 strokes better than par in net terms. For context, even elite amateur tournaments rarely see net scores dip into the high 50s.

Golf handicaps exist to level the playing field and are calculated from prior submitted scores, designed to reflect a golfer’s demonstrated ability. A sudden increase to 24, particularly if prior cards showed significantly lower handicap indices, invites scrutiny. Conflict-of-interest issues are raised, especially since the golf course where the handicap was taken is owned by the player’s family.

Indeed, the father of the golfer’s public persona compounded the issue by being a public official, owning the golf course where the handicap was taken, and being part of the organizing committee where he lobbied for his son’s lower handicap. Whether done through formal motion or informal persuasion, the optics are problematic. Even if procedural rules were followed, the overlap between parental interest and committee authority creates a perception of conflict.

Social media, as expected, did not hold back. Accusations of favoritism, impropriety and political entitlement spread faster than a sliced drive into the trees. Some argue the uproar is exaggerated since no public funds were disbursed and no government contract was signed. Rather, the main question here is that of “integrity.”

Golf is a self-policing sport. A player calls penalties on himself, marks his own ball and counts his own strokes. The game rests on an invisible but rigid foundation of trust. One’s character is revealed not by applause on the 18th green, but by what is written quietly on the scorecard.

When elected officials enter that arena, they do not cease to be public figures. The public is correct to scrutinize conduct that suggests preferential treatment, whether on the fairway or in public office. Integrity is not divisible. It does not apply only to budget hearings and legislative sessions. It extends to private associations where influence may tilt outcomes. Is the controversy overblown? Perhaps in tone, but not in principle.

An 80 gross is commendable; however, a net 56 score may justify the need for a review. If the handicap was justified under established rules, transparency would settle the matter. If it was not, then the lesson is larger than one tournament. Golf, like governance, depends on trust, which, once questioned, cannot be easily restored, especially for public officials.

For comments, email him at darren.dejesus@gmail.com.