Golfer lauded for doing the right thing

The moment J.P. Hayes looked down at the golf ball on the floor in his hotel room, he knew there were only two options. Keep his mouth shut and his chances of playing full-time on the PGA Tour next season alive. Or pick up the phone and disqualify himself.

Ten days later, the only thing that seems remarkable to Hayes about that decision is the stir it created. He said he was only doing what any golfer would, although in Hayes' case, totaling up the cost probably will require six figures.

"It's blown me away," Hayes said Thursday about the reaction. "I certainly don't want to be made out as a hero. I'm just a player that did the right thing. If it's served to remind people what a good game we've got, that's great. But I've already moved on."

Hayes was on the tee at the par-3 12th hole in the first round of the PGA Tour's qualifying tournament when his caddie flipped him the fateful golf ball. He missed the green, chipped on, marked his ball and then realized it wasn't the one he'd started the day with. Hayes called over an official and took a 2-shot penalty, then went back to playing his original ball on the next tee and finished the round with a 74. He shot 71 the following day, leaving him with a very good chance of moving on to final stage of Q-School, from where the top 25 finishers and ties graduate to exempt status on the PGA Tour for 2009.

Like a lot of golfers, Hayes is such an equipment freak that he goes through his golf bag every night. When he did that in his hotel room the night after the second round, he realized the ball that had already cost him 2 strokes was a prototype that hadn't been approved for tournament play. After he called a PGA Tour official, he recalled, "I pretty much knew at that point I was done."

The last thing Hayes wants is people feeling sorry for him. He lost his tour card after slumping to 178th on the money list last season, but nearly two decades after turning pro and years of bouncing between the big tour and the minors, he's bankrolled $7 million in career earnings.

He also knows there are worse ways to make a living than another stint on the Nationwide Tour, even at age 43. What he still doesn't understand is the fuss.

"We don't have refs on the course, so we have to call penalties on ourselves. I've done it before, dozens of guys have," Hayes said. "Just about everybody out there does, but usually we move on and nobody hears about it."

That's not entirely true. Enough stories like Hayes' have slipped out over the years to suggest that while golfers are hardly saints, they tend to do the right thing a lot more often than their counterparts in just about every other sport.

Golfers have called penalties on themselves after discovering their child's cut-down club rattling around in the bottom of the bag (too many clubs) and because a ball wobbled in stiff winds while they were getting ready to putt it.

There are too many stories of players DQ'd for signing incorrect scorecards to list, but the most famous reaction was that of Argentine Roberto deVicenzo following the 1968 Masters, delivering perhaps the most-famous and least-bitter lament ever in pro sports: "What a stupid I am."

If the same thing happened in NASCAR, major-league baseball or the NFL - where the unofficial motto is, "If you ain't cheating, you ain't trying" - his agent would have filed a grievance while the ink on the scorecard was still dry. For some reason, golf is different.

"It's the most honest thing anyone could do," fellow pro Rich Beem said about Hayes, who's a good friend. "This guy lost his job because of it. To me, it not only shows how much class J.P. has, but most PGA Tour pros in general. Most would do the same thing."

But Beem acknowledged a moment later, "I would like to think I would in that position, but it would be tough. I'm glad that wasn't laid on me."

As anybody who plays the game knows, golf can be cruel, and nowhere is that manifest more than at Q-School, where the pressure is palpable because so many livelihoods are at stake. A golfer named Roland Thatcher came to the 18th hole at Bear Lakes in West Palm Beach, Fla., in 2001 needing only a par to get his card. He bounced his approach over the green, onto a cart path and eventually onto the roof of the clubhouse. Not only was his lifelong dream scuttled, he had take a drop in a pampas bush and play his next shot from there. Thatcher made triple bogey and hasn't been heard from since.

Hayes may be much luckier. Among his calls the last few days were several from tour sponsors who might be willing to give him an exemption. Between those events and several second-tier tournaments where he's won in the past, Hayes figures he'll get a dozen starts on the big tour next season.

"A few people who've called reminded me good things can come out of tough situations," he said. "We'll see."

Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitke@ap.org