​It's one thing to cheat in golf and give yourself an extra stroke or two to mess with your buddy-- and then there's taking a ball from someone else and calling it your own. That's simply a different level of dishonesty. And do you know someone who's done exactly that? According to a new story from Golf.com, President of the United States ​Donald Trump. "This guy cheats like a mafia accountant"https://t.co/0apXF6djWo — Sean Illing (@seanilling) May 10, 2019 As the story goes, Trump was at one of his courses when he saw Ted Virtue, a successful businessman who helped finance the Oscar-winning movie "Green Book," playing a round with his young son. ​Trump drove his ​golf cart over to congratulate Virtue on winning the club's championship, adding that he didn’t "really win it" because the ​POTUS was out of town and couldn't participate. That would come off as a funny joke to most, but Trump was dead serious about it. He wanted to play the final six holes head-to-head against Virtue to decide the "real" champion. Virtue didn't want any part of this, as he was playing with his son, but he ended up relenting and they faced off. (EDITOR'S NOTE: this Vox story later updated and acknowledged that the kid in question was in his 20s and not "10 or 11.") That's when things got weird. Trump teed off on one of the holes and his ball landed in a nearby pond. Neither Virtue or his son hit their ball in the drink, but that didn't keep Trump from claiming the son's ball as his own, lining up the put, sinking it and declaring himself the club champion.<doc-sep>Back in March, a story took over the Twitterverse regarding the circumstances under which Donald Trump won the 2018 course championship at Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach. Trump did not participate in the tournament — he cited the demands of the office of the presidency — which was won by a man named Ted Virtue. Instead, after running into Virtue, Trump suggested a playoff, won, and said they were co-champions, even if the plaque at the course says POTUS won. As it turns out, Trump’s win may have came under some dubious circumstances. Rick Reilly, the author of the book Commander in Cheat, sat down with Vox’s Sean Illing to discuss his book and the president’s game on the links. When asked about a story regarding Trump cheating on the golf course, Reilly returns to the game he played against Virtue. As the longtime sportswriter tells it, Trump might have taken some liberties with which ball was his. After sending his shot sailing into the water, Trump walked up to the green and said one of the balls sitting pretty belonged to him. He didn’t claim ownership to Virtue’s ball, but instead, called dibs on the ball belonging to Virtue’s pre-teen son. You see, Trump challenged Virtue while he was playing golf with his child, who Reilly says is 10 or 11. After Virtue said he’d rather hit the links with his kid, Trump invited him to play, then allegedly stole his ball. They get to a hole with a big pond on it. Both Ted and his son hit the ball on the green, and Trump hits his in the water. By the time they get to the hole, Trump is lining up the kid’s ball. Only now it’s his ball and the caddie has switched it. The kid’s like, “Daddy, that’s my ball.” But Trump’s caddie goes, “No, this is the president’s ball; your ball went in the water.” Ted and his son look at each other confused, not sure if this is really happening. And Trump’s caddie says, “This is the president’s ball. I don’t know what to tell you.” Trump makes that putt, wins one up, and declares himself the club champion. Everyone who has ever golfed has lied a time or two, but even by that standard, this is one heck of a lie. All sense of honesty gets thrown out the window, apparently, when the opportunity to be named the 2018 Trump International Golf Club champion after the tournament had already occurred is on the line. (Via Vox)<doc-sep>Have you ever won a tournament you never competed in? Have you ever stolen the ball from an opponent to gain a competitive advantage? If the answer to either or both of those questions is no, then you’re not cheating at the highest level. Which is to say, you’re not cheating like President Donald Trump. In a 2019 book, Commander in Cheat, sportswriter Rick Reilly explores Trump’s complicated relationship with the game of golf, and shows the near-heroic efforts he makes to lie about his scores, sabotage his opponents, and generally defraud the sport. Golf match? I've won 18 Club Championships including this weekend. @mcuban swings like a little girl with no power or talent. Mark's a loser — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) March 19, 2013 Trump’s cheating at golf might seem trivial compared to his political shenanigans, but there’s another way to think about it: Golf is a game built on self-governance, Reilly says, and in that way, it’s like a “Rorschach test for your morality.” And some of the stories about Trump are truly absurd. “In a weird way,” Reilly told me, they “say as much about Trump as almost anything else we know about him, because it cuts to the core of his character.” A lightly edited transcript of my conversation with Reilly follows. Sean Illing Trump claims to have won at least 20 club championships at his golf courses. What is a club championship? And how many of those has he actually won? Rick Reilly Once a year, every country club has a club championship for the best players. It lasts two or three days, and it’s a big thing if you win it. The best player I know of at this level won eight of these club championships — that’s the most I’ve ever heard of. Trump’s going around telling people he has won 20. But that’s 100 percent a lie. I actually played with him once, and he told me how he does it: Whenever he opens a new golf course, because he owns 14 and operates another five, he plays the first club champion by himself and declares that the club championship and puts his name on the wall. But it’s usually just him and Melania in the cart and nobody else. He just makes it up. Sean Illing Give me the most outrageous cheating story. Rick Reilly Well, this story isn’t in the book but it’s wild. While Trump was meeting with Kim Jong Un in Singapore, a club championship was held at Trump International, the course Trump built near Mar-a-Lago in Florida. So later on, Trump’s back on the course there with the Secret Service and the SWAT team guys and all that stuff. And he sees Ted Virtue, who was involved in the financing of the movie Green Book. I could never get Virtue to call me back on all this, but Golf.com reported it and I heard it from two members of the club as well. They say Virtue was there playing with his son. Trump sees Ted on the 9th hole and and decides to drive his cart over. He tells Ted: “Congrats on winning the club championship, but you didn’t really win it, because I was out of town.” Ted tries to laugh it off, but Trump is dead serious. Trump says, “We’re gonna play these last six holes for the championship.” And Ted’s like, “Oh, well, I’m playing with my son, but thanks anyway.” But Trump says, “It’s okay. Your son can play, too.” So what are you going to do? He’s the president. It’s his course. They end up playing. Apparently, they get to a hole with a big pond in front of the green. Both Ted and his son hit the ball on the green, but Trump hits his in the water. By the time they get to the hole, though, Trump is lining up the son’s ball. Only now it’s his ball and the caddie has switched it. The son is like, “That’s my ball!” But Trump’s caddie goes, “No, this is the president’s ball; your ball went in the water.” Ted and his son look at each other confused, not sure if this is really happening. Trump makes that putt, and wins one up. Then, according to Golf.com, he tells Virtue something like, “I’ll tell you what, we’ll be co-champions.” But the members tell me that when you look at the plaques on Trump’s locker there, it says: “2018 Men’s Club Champion.” No “co-” at all. Sean Illing Were you able to talk to Trump at any point while you were working on this and ask him about this stuff? Rick Reilly Nope. I tried to interview him. I sent him a FedEx letter. I called the people I know in the White House Press Office. I texted. I don’t know what else I could have done to try to get an interview. But he wouldn’t talk to me. Eric Trump, who’s in charge of the golf[-related business], wouldn’t talk to me. Don Jr. wouldn’t talk to me. I talked to a ton of people while reporting this book — Republicans, Democrats, random people in Trump’s orbit. They all have a story. But half of them wouldn’t let me use it. Some of them like his policies, some don’t want to be [targeted by Trump]. Even when I said, “Just let me use the story and I won’t put your name on it,” they still said no. Sean Illing What’s interesting to me is what Trump’s cheating says about the unreality he lives in. Rick Reilly I mean, he’s always been like this. We’ve known this guy in the sports world for 30 years. He’s always told people that no one can beat him, that he’s the best of the rich guys. But it’s always been complete bullshit, and everyone knows it. For example, he’s played in the Pebble Beach Pro-Am, a really popular golf tournament that’s full of rich guys, for seven straight years. His team has never made the cut — not once. He constantly says he can beat anybody among the rich, but I’ve played in the Tahoe Celebrity tournament with him several times and he’s never finished in the top half. I realize how silly all of this is, but it’s also serious because of what it says about the man, about who and what he actually is. I always say golf is like bicycle shorts — it reveals a lot about a man. And the fact that he has to prop up his bullshit reputation as this fantastic golfer is pretty revealing. Sean Illing What’s the point of all this cheating? He’s not competing for money or a pro contract, right? What purpose does any of this serve? Rick Reilly He always wins, even if he loses — that’s it. He just wants to tell people he beat your ass. I asked a psychiatrist and he said that someone with this kind of narcissism, which is really a personality disorder, they just can’t stand the idea that they’re not number one, that they’re not the best. So they have to make shit up. Someone once asked him to rate the best 10 courses in America. He put five of his courses in the top 10. But when you go to the Golf Digest Top 200, his best course is ranked 156. “This guy cheats like a mafia accountant” Sean Illing Do you think he’s convinced himself that he’s not cheating? Rick Reilly Oh, for sure. I’ve had three or four people tell me they called him on it on the first hole. He kicks the ball so much that caddies call him Pelé [a reference to the famous Brazilian soccer player]. He throws it out of bunkers, he retakes shots, he throws other people’s balls into the water. But every time people call him on it, he has the same answer, which is, “Oh, the guys I play with, you’ve got to do this just to keep it fair.” It’s the Lance Armstrong defense: Everybody’s doing it, so I have to do it just to keep up, otherwise I’m getting cheated.<doc-sep>
When you espy a child’s vulnerable golf ball on the green. Photo : Jeff J Mitchell ( Getty Images ) CORRECTION (May 10, 4:06 p.m. ET): Vox appended the following correction to its post this afternoon : “In an earlier version of this article, the interviewee mischaracterized the age of Ted Virtue’s son who played golf with Trump. All of Virtue’s sons are at least in their 20s, not child-age. We sincerely regret the error.” I sincerely regret it, too. It has long been known that Donald Trump cheats at golf. Not a little, either, but cheats with exactly the same degree of oafish balls-out shamelessness that he does everything else. Stories about this have circulated for a long time, to the point where they have taken on a sort of Mad Libs quality. Who can forget the time that Trump [threw/kicked/coaxed] a ball struck by [prominent sportscaster/longtime Days Of Our Lives cast member/thrice-divorced Florida chiropractor] into [a sand trap/a water hazard/a nearby alligator’s open mouth]? Try it yourself and enjoy a moment of outrage at Trump cheating egregiously so as to avoid losing a hole to David Charvet in match play. There are enough of these stories out there that semi-retired journalist Rick Reilly was able to round them up into an entire book called Commander In Cheat. In promoting that book, Reilly has avowed that he remains a non-political person who was moved to write not by Trump’s broader grotesquerie but by the offenses that the president has visited upon the noble game of golf over his decades of relentless cheesy chiseling cheating. To the extent that receipts are necessary to prove something that everyone already knows to be true, Reilly seems to have them. Many of the people that Reilly spoke to refused to attach their names to the stories they told, mostly because they understood that the current President of the United States is absolutely the sort of person who would pursue a scorched-earth campaign of retribution against anyone who insinuated that he was not, as he has often claimed, “the best golfer of all the rich people.” In an interview with Vox, Reilly tells a story about which the broad strokes have been known for some time—how Trump wheedled and bullied the financier and film producer Ted Virtue out of the club championship that Virtue had won at the Trump International Club in West Palm Beach. To recap: Virtue won the title in actual club championship play, Trump said it didn’t count because Trump himself wasn’t on the scene at the time, Trump demanded that Virtue play him for the championship and then “won” what he later magnanimously agreed to term a co-championship. The full story is much more rewarding, at least in the sense that it involves the president baldly stealing from a child. [Virtue] was playing with his kid, who I think is 10 or 11 years old. He [Trump] sees Ted on the 12th hole and decides to drive his cart over there. He tells Ted: Congrats on winning the club championship, but you didn’t really win it because I was out of town. Ted tries to laugh it off, but Trump is dead serious. Trump says, “We’re going to play these last six holes for the championship.” And Ted’s like, “I’m playing with my son, but thanks anyway.” But Trump says, “No, your son can play too.” So they end up playing. They get to a hole with a big pond on it. Both Ted and his son hit the ball on the green, and Trump hits his in the water. By the time they get to the hole, Trump is lining up the kid’s ball. Only now it’s his ball and the caddie has switched it. The kid’s like, “Daddy, that’s my ball.” But Trump’s caddie goes, “No, this is the president’s ball; your ball went in the water.” Ted and his son look at each other confused, not sure if this is really happening. And Trump’s caddie says, “This is the president’s ball. I don’t know what to tell you.” Trump makes that putt, wins one up, and declares himself the club champion.