Lewis: I will miss the Golf Clap
First, it was hockey and soccer. That was expected. Then came football, basketball, and baseball. Then came airplanes, movie theaters, and concerts. For a while, there was a holdout, a last bastion where decorum and civility seemed to prevail — golf.
Alas, that too is gone.
Last week at the Ryder Cup, the fans’ unruly behavior became the lead story. If this had happened at a football game or even on an airplane, it wouldn’t have made the news. Just another day of shouting, booing, and maybe even a fistfight in Row 22. But for golf, it was a turning point. The Golf Clap — that gentle patter of palms that once symbolized restraint and respect — is now an endangered species.
Civility used to prevail in our society. There was a time when people dressed up to board an airplane, or even just to go to the movies. There was a time when swearing in public was something you simply didn’t do. I remember going to games as a kid with my father, who told me it was fine to cheer for your team, but impolite to boo the other side.
But over time, more and more of our public spaces succumbed to incivility. Instead of worrying about disturbing others, people now seem to feel entitled to do so. The louder and more disruptive, the better.
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Back in the early 2000s, I had the chance to attend the Masters. Unlike most sports where noise is the backdrop, Augusta was a cathedral of silence. No one moved or spoke while a player lined up a shot. The applause after a perfect drive or a long putt was subdued, almost whispered, so as not to disturb players on neighboring holes. It was known, of course, as the Golf Clap. There was something refreshing — almost comforting — about that restraint. It said: “We can appreciate greatness without drowning it in noise.”
Now? That quiet reverence has been replaced with heckling, drunken chants, and the occasional “You suck!” shouted right in someone’s backswing. I suppose it was inevitable. When civility starts to erode in one place, it tends to spread.
I’m not sure how we got here, but it’s everywhere. People talking on cell phones in movie theaters, profanity-laden rants from fans in stadiums, bizarre mid-flight outbursts that land people in viral TikToks — this is our new normal. Personally, I’ve almost stopped going to theaters altogether, since the chances of enjoying the movie without distraction feel slim.
And it’s not just in-person gatherings. This behavior now permeates social media. I’m still shocked by some of the comments I see on news stories or local forums. A few years ago, when we were selling items online, I subscribed to Eagle County Classifieds on Facebook. It was an eye-opener. Very few posts were actually selling anything; most were just rants about local issues. And the comments? Mean-spirited, sarcastic, downright nasty. Not constructive debate — just digital mudslinging.
Some of this, I suppose, is a reflection of broader changes in our culture. We value authenticity, so people “say what they feel” in the moment. We value visibility, so the loudest voices rise to the top of the algorithm. Politeness, on the other hand, doesn’t trend. Nobody ever went viral for quietly applauding a birdie on the 12th hole.
It has become contagious. Just last week, CU was fined for fans shouting offensive profanity-laden slurs at the other team.
Still, I think something important is lost. Civility was a kind of social lubricant — it kept interactions smooth even when we disagreed. It allowed us to share public spaces with strangers without wanting to strangle them before intermission. And, not least, it gave us the Golf Clap — a reminder that respect doesn’t have to be noisy.
Maybe golf will survive without it. The pros will still drive 300 yards, drain impossible putts, and smile through the heckling. But for me, I’ll miss that little sound of restrained appreciation. It was civilized. It was dignified. And these days, that feels like a luxury.
Mark Lewis, a Colorado native, had a long career in technology, including serving as the CEO of several tech companies. He’s now retired and writes thriller novels. Mark and his wife, Lisa, and their two Australian Shepherds — Kismet and Cowboy, reside in Edwards.
