TITHELEIST

Dear readers, there’s a certain amount of trust that comes with playing in a charity golf tournament, especially at a private club. You’re behind the gates, surrounded by people who presumably belong there and you’ve paid good money for the privilege of playing golf while doing something charitable. The last thing on your mind is someone stealing your clubs.

The routine is familiar. Six hours to play eighteen holes, followed by cocktails and a silent auction. Eventually everyone sits down for a meal, a few speeches and the inevitable paddle raise, where a determined auctioneer attempts to separate you from whatever money you haven’t already spent. By the time it’s over, you’ve got a full belly, a slight buzz and a considerably lighter wallet. But it’s all for a good cause, and you feel pretty good about yourself.

Meanwhile, your golf clubs have been sitting wherever the staff put them. The smart ones retrieve their bags and take them straight to the car. The rest of us hand them off to an attendant and head for the bar. This is a country club, after all. Somebody must be looking after them.

Which brings us to a recent charity tournament held by a local religious group at a private club.

The outing went as planned, at least through the golf. After the round, the players headed inside for the post-round festivities while staff pulled the bags off the carts and moved them to the bag room, where they would wait until everyone was ready to leave.

From what we were told, the bag room had a roll-up door onto the service drive that stayed open during events so staff could move bags in and out. A man in a golf shirt carrying a few bags toward a car doesn’t look suspicious. He looks like someone you’re supposed to tip.

The cocktails and meal ran about two hours. When the first group went to collect their clubs, the rack looked a little thin. Staff assumed someone had moved the bags, but couldn’t figure out where. 

The golf shop pulled the registration sheet and started calling names. Nearly a dozen golfers came up empty, and these weren’t starter sets. Most of these players had spent years assembling the perfect bag. Now, after a day spent raising money for a good cause, they were looking at spending several thousand dollars more to replace their equipment.

The victims were furious. They wanted to know who had left the bag room door open and why nobody was watching the equipment. The manager produced a form. They all filled it out and returned to the bar to discuss whose insurance company would disappoint them the most.

Before everyone left, the organizer thanked the group for its generosity and assured the victims that the congregation would keep them in its prayers. He then reminded the room that additional donations were still being accepted.

For the first time all day, nobody seemed particularly interested in giving.

The sheriff’s office was called. Deputies reviewed surveillance footage and spoke to witnesses, eventually developing a description of the suspected vehicle. They didn’t have a license plate number, but the department’s automated license plate reader system could search for vehicles by description.

Ten days after the theft, investigators served a search warrant at a home. A man was arrested on suspicion of grand theft and subsequently released on bond. Deputies also recovered the stolen golf clubs and equipment during the search.

Karma, it turns out, occasionally requires a search warrant.

Of course, it doesn’t always work out this way. Ask around any grill room and you’ll hear stories about clubs that disappeared from bag racks, golf carts and parking lots, never to be seen again.

And so, dear readers, give generously at your next charity outing. The Lord may be watching, but He doesn’t work the bag room.

At Mirage Country Club in Port Douglas, Australia, a six-foot crocodile was recently photographed lounging beside a sign warning golfers about crocodiles.

The club's general manager advised players to leave any balls that land in the water and simply play another.

Finally, a water hazard that actually deserves the name.

Have a great “nugget” that isn’t quite a CCC story, but is still too good not to share? Submit it here!

Your car breaks down the morning of the invitational. What do you do?

⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Call my partner. I’m out. (2)
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 Uber. Surge pricing be damned. (60)
🟨🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Borrow the housekeeper’s car. Ask forgiveness later. (26)
🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Depends on the size of the Calcutta. (13)

We’ve got some loyalty among out readers - not that we ever doubted you. A member-guest invitation is special, and you know to honor it as such no matter what curveballs life throws at you!

Congrats to our comment contest winner Scott C. who said, “There’s no way I would no-show my partner. I’d hitchhike with my bag on my back if I had to.” We love the commitment and for that comment Scott C. will be recieving a sleeve of LA GOLF balls from us!