Even 10 years ago, it was not difficult to see golfers collecting scorecards. Now, when I mention paper scorecards, I feel like ‘Latte’. It’s the age of typing on electronic devices. The probability that young golfers who have just entered golf in the last 2-3 years have never seen a paper scorecard is almost 100%. Of course, you can print your score after the round if you want, but that and paper scorecards are completely different.

Golf was originally match play. Whether you hit 4 strokes or 10 strokes in a hole, it was a game based on a relative concept of winning if you hit 1 stroke less than your opponent. Even when he received a penalty stroke, he gave the opponent an advantage rather than adding it to his own score. For example, if you look at the first 13 rules made in 1744, there is this. ‘If you lose the ball, you must return to the spot where you originally shot and drop another ball. For one’s bad luck, the opponent is allowed a one-stroke advantage’ (Article 8).

At that time, in match play, it was not counting the number of strokes, but only the relationship between one’s superiority and the opponent’s. ‘Like’ when the opponent is tied, ‘odd’ when 1 stroke more, ‘two more’ when 2 strokes more, ‘three more’ when 3 strokes more It was an expression. I didn’t need a scorecard because I didn’t have to count strokes.

The stroke play method, which determines the winner by cumulatively adding the number of strokes on a hole, was first developed in 1759 in St Andrews, Scotland. It was a revolutionary change at the time. However, it was a time when even simple addition education was not received except for nobles and merchants. It was difficult to count one’s own at-bats, but having to count others’ at-bats was a huge ordeal. Each of them wrote down their at-bats on a slip of paper or in a notebook. It was even written on the sleeve of a shirt. After the round, the number of strokes was transferred to the club’s log book.

If you look at the scorecard of Young Tom Morris, winner of the 1869 Open (British Open), every time he hits a stroke, he draws a cross through the hole number blank with a pencil. Then he wrote a number beside it. Hole 8 (par 3) has only one hatch. It was the first hole-in-one at The Open.

Serious golfers sanctified the act of writing down scores. Not only the number of strokes, but also the details of the game, such as par ons and putts, were carefully recorded. The scorecard wasn’t just a piece of paper that recorded at-bats 슬롯사이트. Memories of the course and companions were also engraved while pressing down with a pencil. The caddies even put a pretty heart-shaped sticker on the buddy. Looking at those scorecards brought back memories of those days. Occasionally, when I went to famous foreign courses, I would bring a scorecard as a souvenir even if I couldn’t play a round. The scorecard contained the individuality of each golf course. Some of my acquaintances only collect small pencils used to write down strokes.

Several scorecards are also kept in the World Golf Hall of Fame. Al Geiberger’s scorecard, which hit 59 for the first time in the history of the American Professional Golf (PGA) Tour; Annika Sorenstam’s scorecard, which was the first and only woman’s golf to hit 59; things, etc.

Paper scorecards are gradually disappearing. Compared to other countries, Korea’s speed is much faster. Electronic scorecards are gaining momentum with environmental issues at their backs. As the system for calculating the official handicap of the golf associations of each country has also been digitized, paper scorecards are shrinking. The small but precious golf culture and romance are disappearing into the dark side of history.