John Huggan: Playing by the rules, unless your name is Kenny Perry

AMIDST THE many incongruities and inconsistencies involved in what should be an inherently straightforward sport – hit ball with club until ball is in hole – is the embarrassing fact that the vast majority of golfers operate in a blissful state of almost complete ignorance. Not only do they have no clue when it comes to the admittedly esoteric subject of swing technique, only an anorak-wearing few possess even a tenuous grasp of the most basic rules. It's a funny old game, right enough.

Still, not knowing what is going on, or at least appearing not to know, is apparently a most effective defence against accusations of foul play. Take the Kenny Perry affair that has recently been the talk of the tours. The American – despite perpetrating what appeared to be an obvious improvement of his lie beside the 18th green at the TPC of Scottsdale in a play-off for the FBR Open – has been exonerated by rules officials on both sides of the Atlantic because, according to the European Tour's much-respected chief referee, John Paramor, his actions exhibited no obvious "intent" to break the rules.

Such an interpretation was a new one on me and surely represents a dangerous road for golf to go down. I mean, where does it end?

Sorry, I didn't intend to tee up a yard in front of the markers. Sorry, I didn't mean for the ball to move as I addressed it. Sorry, I didn't mean to hit my ball out of bounds. You didn't? Oh, well, that's all right then. No penalty old chap. Play on.

All of which is ridiculous, or at least unrealistic. And also runs directly contrary to the attitude that golf – supposedly the most character-building of pastimes – typically adopts towards those who inadvertently fall foul of overly complicated rules and regulations. Until now, claims of innocence have fallen on the deaf ears of officialdom.

"I'm not sure I'd look too closely at 'intent' in such situations ," says David Rickman, director of rules and equipment standards for the R&A. "Rule 13-2 is pretty clear in that you are not allowed to improve your lie whether you mean to or not. But what I have seen of the Perry incident was, to me, inconclusive. I didn't see any significant improvement of his lie. You are permitted to ground your club lightly behind the ball and in doing so there can often be a slight improvement in the lie. That is unavoidable. But it is a matter of degree. The player is always obliged to take the least intrusive route when placing the club behind the ball."

Still, there are so many sadly familiar examples of overzealousness in the rules: Ian Woosnam and the extra driver found in his bag at the 2001 Open. Roberto de Vicenzo and the "4" that should have been a "3" on his card during the final round of the 1968 Masters. Mark Roe and Jesper Parnevik's careless failure to exchange scorecards prior to the third round of the 2003 Open.

In each of those instances, the mistakes made were guileless, with no advantage being either sought or gained. Yet golf, in all its unrivalled self-importance and pomposity, took the view that none of those men could be trusted to tell the truth and so should therefore be punished. In other words, in a game that claims to be the most honest of all, none of the participants is assumed to display that same admirable characteristic. In other words, golf, with no apparent sense of irony, doesn't trust golfers – other than Perry, of course.

All of which makes one wonder: What can be behind this, on the face of it, unjustified cynicism? Maybe golf's rule-makers know more than they let on. Maybe they know what has long been the game's dirty little secret at every level; that an inordinate number of players knowingly cheat. So maybe their hard line is entirely merited, many innocents sacrificed in order to nail the guilty.

Let's go back to Perry and the clump of grass he did or did not deliberately pat down, thereby improving his lie. During the recent Players Championship, I showed a recording of the incident to a prominent PGA Tour player. He took one look, snorted, and announced: "Half the players on tour do that."

Again, such revelations come as no surprise. Every tour on the planet is rife with rumour when it comes to those who cheat for a living. And why, you may ask, is nothing ever done about it? The reason is simple: professional golf, to a large extent, is sold to commercial sponsors on the basis that it is whiter than white. Unlike footballers and rugby players, all golfers, ahem, play strictly by the rules. Or so, predictably, the tours would have you believe. Their economic health depends on public perpetuation of that myth, so they look the other way when naughty things happen.

Which is not to say that many players don't play strictly by the book. Indeed, most are beyond reproach. It is hard, for example, to imagine someone like Jack Nicklaus, the ultimate sportsman, ever contemplating victory by any means other than fair. But, then again, one of Nicklaus' direct contemporaries, a multiple major champion, is one whose on-course deeds – especially where rough is concerned – have always been shrouded in doubt and well-founded innuendo.

The bottom-line? Because of the illegal activities of a few or more than a few, all golfers are judged by rules and decisions that too often fail to reflect natural justice or any semblance of commonsense. Six years ago, when Roe and Parnevik went blithely about their business, the failure to swap cards was not why they were disqualified. In Roe's case he was tossed out because, technically at least, he signed for a lower score on one hole, namely the "4" Parnevik made on Royal St George's 4th hole rather than his own "5". Had the hapless pair tied that hole, Roe could have played on saddled with Parnevik's 81 rather than the 67 he actually shot.

"That was an unfortunate and very extreme example," agrees Rickman. "But one of the responsibilities of every golfer, professional or amateur, is to record the correct score for each hole. And most of the mistakes made in this area involve one hole or the transposition of two figures, not every number on the card as was the case with Roe and Parnevik. Happily, however, it won't happen again. If it does, we can correct the situation with no penalties involved, which I feel is eminently sensible."

That it is, and it is good to know that the R&A recognises that what was nothing more than a simple case of clerical error can be rectified by something a little less Draconian and contrary to every true sporting instinct than disqualification.

Still don't quite understand why Perry wasn't penalised, though. He's a lucky lad.