Board Games

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Dear readers, club governance exists for a reason. Bylaws, oversight committees, and financial audits aren't bureaucratic annoyances – they're guardrails preventing exactly what happened at one prestigious West Coast venue where a group of friends discovered that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and unlimited access to reserve funds corrupts even faster.

At El Condor Country Club (not its real name), a prestigious West Coast institution, the betrayal was executed by the very people sworn to protect it.

The Rise to Power

It started innocently enough. Over several annual elections, a tight-knit group of members – friends who'd played golf for years, whose families socialized together – gradually populated the club's board of directors. By 2016, they controlled every lever of power: board president, treasurer, and a voting majority.

The club's bylaws, written decades earlier when gentleman's agreements meant something, granted the board sweeping authority over club finances with minimal oversight. Monthly financial reports went only to board members. Reserve fund expenditures required only board approval. Outside audits happened annually, providing plenty of runway between accountability moments.

What these successful businessmen – a real estate developer, two hedge fund managers, a tech executive, and an entertainment lawyer – discovered was intoxicating: they could essentially operate in darkness, answerable to no one but themselves.

The Taste of Free

It began small, as these things always do. A few TaylorMade drivers purchased on the club account, ostensibly for "testing purposes." Maybe $3,000 total. Nobody noticed. Nobody questioned. The thrill of getting away with it proved more addictive than the free equipment.

Next came the "due diligence trips." The board announced they were visiting elite clubs like Congressional and Winged Foot to study best practices. Members applauded the initiative.

What members didn't know was that these trips involved private jets, five-star accommodations, and entertainment expenses that would make a bachelor party look restrained. The two-hour club tours were just cover for four days of steakhouses, strip clubs, and the kind of bottle service that turns bar tabs into mortgage payments.

The $80,000 trips yielded zero pages of management notes, but a massive appetite for more.

The Addiction

Like gamblers on a winning streak, the board couldn't stop. Weekend "strategy sessions" at luxury resorts. "Membership recruitment trips" to Las Vegas and Miami. Equipment "research" that somehow required testing – and keeping – every new club offering.

The treasurer, the chief architect, knew that small, consistent withdrawals wouldn't trigger immediate red flags. A few thousand here for "facility improvements." Ten thousand there for "consultant fees" directed to shell companies registered to their relatives. Nothing dramatic, but collectively devastating.

Over three years, the group drained nearly $900,000 from reserves meant for long-term club stability. The irony wasn't lost on investigators: these men's collective net worth exceeded $50 million. They could have easily paid for their excursions personally. But the joy of spending other people's money – club money they controlled – proved irresistible.

"It wasn't about affording it," one former board member later admitted to our source. "It was about getting away with it."

The Reckoning

Their downfall arrived not through whistleblowers or forensic accounting, but through weather. During unusually heavy winter rains, a mudslide on the 14th fairway required immediate attention – easily $400,000 in emergency repairs.

When club management went to access the emergency reserve fund, expecting to find the $2.3 million balance last reported to the membership, they discovered less than $200,000 remained.

The investigation took less than a week. The evidence was embarrassingly transparent: luxury hotel receipts, private jet invoices, and strip club charges all bore board member names and were easily traced. These weren't criminal masterminds; they were entitled men who genuinely believed their positions granted them permission rather than responsibility.

The Aftermath

The entire board was dismissed immediately, their memberships terminated without refund. The $1.5 million in collective initiation fees and decades of tenure were simply gone. The club's bylaws permitted summary expulsion for financial malfeasance, and the membership vote was unanimous.

More devastating than membership loss was reputation destruction. These men – who'd spent careers building reputations as successful, trustworthy business leaders – became known overnight in every private club across the country as the board that stole from their own.

Criminal charges were complicated by the board's technical authority over club funds and were ultimately declined. However, civil lawsuits resulted in settlements requiring full restitution plus penalties.

The club underwent immediate governance reform. New bylaws mandated monthly financial transparency, quarterly independent audits, term limits, and a member oversight committee with veto power over major expenditures. What had been a system of gentlemen's agreements became bureaucratic necessity – the price of betrayed trust.

The Lesson

Years later, the "Board Games scandal" remains shorthand in West Coast golf circles for what happens when power meets opportunity minus accountability. The club survived, though it took years to rebuild reserves and member confidence.

The most tragic aspect wasn't the stolen money. It was the waste of position and privilege. These men achieved respect and leadership and threw it away for thrills they could have easily afforded to purchase legitimately.

Remember, dear readers: membership at exclusive clubs isn't just about paying dues – it's about earning trust, maintaining integrity, and understanding that some privileges come with responsibilities that money can't buy. When leadership treats the reserve fund like a personal ATM, everyone pays the price.

The juice, as they say, was definitely not worth the squeeze. Especially when you're squeezing everyone else's lemons.

Poll Question

Last Week's Poll Result

What’s the real lesson of “Bags to Riches”?

🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Tip your caddie or he’ll take your wife and your club championship

🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Marry for love… or at least for a single-digit handicap

🟨🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Old money + new money = lawyer money

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 The only thing more expensive than golf is divorce

Lesson learned: golf can empty your pockets, but divorce empties the vault. Sammy’s biggest victory wasn’t on the scorecard, it was in settlement negotiations. Don’t forget to vote in the poll and leave us a comment!

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