Charley Hull pranked her caddie with a £100,000 fake winning scratch ticket during a practice day at the AIG Women’s Open. After her opening-round 69 at Royal Lytham & St Annes, Hull shrugged off any criticism of the prank.
I don’t know Hull, or her longtime caddie, Adam Woodward, an Australian who said he found the joke funny. I do know something about pranking a caddie, though.
Tuesday was a big practice day at the 2022 Pebble Beach Pro-Am and the first time I ever played Pebble Beach. I received a sponsor’s exemption into the event and Monday Q Info founder, Ryan French, planned to caddie.
Any time you’re scheduled to play Pebble Beach is filled with giddy anticipation. It feels like you’re about to step on sacred ground. Even the most experienced tour player pulls out his camera for a few obligatory selfies. The anticipation fueled the early morning walk with Ryan to the first tee. Are we really playing Pebble? How did we get here? How lucky are we?
As with any good prank, gently poking one’s deeply held fear is a great premise. One of Ryan’s greatest concerns was his social media habits landing him in hot water.
As we reached the first tee at Pebble, the head of caddie services approached us with the Tournament Director, Steve John, and informed Ryan he had violated Monterey Peninsula’s social media policy the day before. Members were demanding his credential be revoked. John was in on it and reinforced the message. Ryan wasn’t going to be able to caddie at Pebble, they said. Cameras captured Ryan’s shock and disbelief.
“I want you to find a new caddie and win the tournament,” he told me, saintly and near tears, setting the bag down.
Others cooked up the scheme. I was only playing along to promote the tournament. Later, my mom and wife said it was cruel. Ryan handled it with relief, laughter and grace. I waited for retaliation.
The danger in pranking your caddie isn’t inflaming social media. It’s that you never know when revenge will arrive — but there are countless subtle opportunities for payback. Woodward said to reporters he was going to be taking suggestions and even mentioned stealing Hull’s car and selling it for £100,000.
There are plenty of on-course ideas that might find their way into Woodward’s suggestion box. Something as significant as an extra club finding its way into the bag during a match. Giving too many balls out to fans on a course covered in penalty areas. A vexing comment at the wrong time. “Hey Boss, remember, anything left of this fairway is dead.”
The list goes on and on. The way a caddie serves revenge depends on how much it will cost them — and how much job security they have.
Woodward’s an Aussie. The Aussies I traveled with through the years were good natured, laid back blokes. They could be merciless with one another and laugh about it over a beer. Still, I wouldn’t give my caddie a fake winning scratch ticket. But Hull and Woodward have been working together since 2015 and Hull has sung “Adsy” praises publicly. You don’t develop this kind of successful partnership without a deeper level of personal understanding.
The caddie, however, is always at a disadvantage in that relationship dynamic. Even the best caddies know they’re one bad stretch of golf away from being between jobs. There’s a code of silence among good caddies. Most loopers only share players’ darkest on-course secrets — or own their frustrations — with other pro jocks: the people they split cars, rooms and meals with. The people who know how heavy life on tour for a caddie can be.
Which is why retaliation — as justified as it may be — isn’t likely to come (and if it does it won’t be proportional). Better to laugh at your misfortune and hope it gives your player a boost. Maybe a good laugh saves a player a shot in the crucible of competition. Maybe that shot is the difference between winning and a four-way tie for second. Self-deprecation can be a lucrative trait for a caddie.
Hull isn’t your typical LPGA personality. It’s one of the reasons she has one of the biggest followings in the women’s game. Most fans and media appreciate her fast-talking, fast-swinging, no filter style. She does things her way. Hull says that perhaps she’ll buy Woodward 100 real scratch tickets if she plays well this week. Through two rounds at the AIG Women’s Open, she’s T6, four shots back of Japan's Shiho Kuwaki and American Yealimi Noh.
The winner’s share is $1.5 million. Ten percent of that makes things right with Woodward — and makes Hull a major winner.
Even then, Hull might want to count her clubs on the first tee.
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