The GHIN Reaper

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Dear readers, every club has its mysteries, from the bunkers that somehow never get raked (despite a membership pledge to always cover your tracks) to the occasional suspicious scorecards resulting in a net 62 taking down the honeypot. But at Pacific Oaks Country Club (not its real name), members encountered something far more sinister: a systematic assault on one man’s handicap that would make even the most hardened sandbagger blush.

The Setup

It began innocently enough. Colby Trimble (not his real name), a dependable 15-handicapper who’d earned his stripes the honest way through ten years of membership, noticed something peculiar one Tuesday morning. His GHIN index had dropped precipitously overnight. A quick check of his app revealed the smoking gun: an even-par round from the black tees, posted under his name.

“Must be a mistake,” Trimble reasoned. Wrong GHIN number, perhaps. A quick trip to the pro shop resolved the issue with a few keystrokes. Problem solved - or so he thought.

Three weeks later, it happened again. Then again. What began as an amusing clerical error evolved into something far more personal and persistent.

The Victim

Trimble had transitioned from social to full golf membership as his children grew older. A creature of habit who enjoyed his weekend money games with friends, he found himself increasingly frustrated when arriving at the first tee only to discover another bogus 67 posted to his account. The phantom scores weren’t just embarrassing - they were sabotaging his standing games and tournament handicap.

Over seven months, twelve fraudulent rounds appeared on his account. Each time, Trimble would sheepishly explain to playing partners why his 15-handicap suddenly showed sub-scratch numbers. Each time, he’d trudge to the pro shop for another correction.

The Suspects

Trimble began conducting his own investigation, mentally cataloging potential enemies. Had he taken a joke too far during a card room session? Was someone still bitter about an old Nassau bet? His daughter worked as a lifeguard at the club’s pool - perhaps she’d unknowingly created an adversary among the membership?

He pleaded with his regular foursome to cease what he assumed was an elaborate prank. All denied involvement with convincing sincerity. The mystery deepened, and paranoia crept into every interaction.

The Detective

Enter Manny Terrance (not his real name), a retired fire captain with time on his hands and an investigator’s instincts. What the overworked pro shop treated as a recurring nuisance, Terrance approached like an arson case - methodically, thoroughly, and with absolute determination to find the truth.

Terrance’s investigation revealed crucial details. The perpetrator wasn’t particularly golf-savvy - several rounds were posted on Mondays when the course was closed, others during maintenance periods when play was impossible. More importantly, all posts originated from the clubhouse computer terminal, eliminating the possibility of remote hacking.

Around this time, club character “Skeeter” Williams organized a betting pool on the prime suspects, creating a makeshift investigation board that would make any precinct proud. The smart money was on close friends with motive and opportunity.

The Investigation Breakthrough

The breakthrough came through timestamped computer logs and matching video footage. Pacific Oaks’ clubhouse security camera had limited storage, but it captured four instances of the fraudulent posting. The footage revealed their culprit in the act - hunched over the terminal, methodically entering Trimble’s information.

When confronted, the perpetrator offered a laughably thin defense: he claimed to be simply “looking up another member’s index.” The evidence, however, was irrefutable.

The Shocking Revelation

The announcement stunned everyone, especially Trimble. The handicap assassin wasn’t a close friend or bitter gambling partner. Instead, it was a social member Trimble barely knew - someone he considered a passing acquaintance at most.

The motive? Even more shocking than the identity. During the previous summer, this social member had asked to join Trimble’s bocce ball team. The request, made during the off-season, was simply forgotten when roster spots were finalized. No malice, no intentional slight - just a casual oversight.

The social member’s response? A seven-month revenge campaign targeting Trimble’s handicap with the bitter passion of a scorned lover.

The Aftermath

Skeeter’s betting pool collapsed when the winner wasn’t even on the board. Having failed to include a “field bet,” he was forced to return all money wagered on the known suspects. The exonerated faced the awkward task of rebuilding relationships strained by suspicion.

The guilty party received a steep suspension but chose resignation over shame, finally doing the right thing for the first time in this sordid affair.

Whispers about watching out for vindictive social members made their way around the membership, but the real lesson proved more fundamental: at private clubs, even the smallest perceived slights can metastasize into elaborate revenge schemes.

Trimble’s handicap returned to its honest 15, his money games resumed their natural rhythm, and Pacific Oaks returned to its normal mysteries - figuring out why it is so hard for some people to pick up a rake and cover their tracks!

Remember readers: Hell hath no fury like a social member scorned by a bocce ball snub. Some grudges age longer than the finest Bordeaux in your club’s wine cellar, so be careful out there!

Poll Question

Last Week's Poll Result

🎬 You’re the head of the studio. Which one are you greenlighting?

🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜️⬜️ Lines in the Sand: The Legendary Cocaine Caddie 🛥️ Cocaine Bear was terrible and made $87 million. This one has boats, blow, and an antihero with a caddie bib.

🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Banking on a Dream 💰 Blue-collar Whiplash meets The Town. A broke golfer robs banks to chase his PGA dreams? Awards bait with just enough action to sell international.

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 The Caddie Who Knew Too Much 🕵️‍♂️ Low budget. High intrigue. One missing caddie, a lot of rich people with secrets, and a final scene that gets explained in thinkpieces for years.

🟨🟨🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️ No Country Club for Old Men 🏜️ It’s Serpico meets Legend of Bagger Vance. Dusty, deadly, and guaranteed three Oscar noms and a Criterion reissue by 2040.

We had our money on Lines in the Sand: The Legendary Cocaine Caddie but it looks like The Caddie Who Knew Too Much took the cake. This is why it’s so hard to keep your job as a studio head! The only thing we really learned is that our audience wants “Caddie” in the title, and why not - after all, Caddyshack is an all-timer and still the gold standard.

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