Let me teach you where to stand on the tee box while others are hitting
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Two weeks ago, I was watching the final group at the BMW, and I was shocked by how close Robert MacIntyre was standing to Scottie Scheffler on the tee. I shouldn't have been—I've seen it in person a thousand times, and on some tee boxes the gallery is so close and there's so little room that players have to be scrunched together. Pros have to learn early on how to hit in tight quarters, and being reminded of that fact made me feel bad for how sensitive I can be to people creeping up on me. My friend Chris in particular, a frequent playing partner, will sometimes stand six feet away to the point where I feel I might decapitate him by accident, and because know each other so well, I'll say, "can you please ****ing move?", and then I'll feel bad. To be honest, though, my concern is less about bludgeoning him to death with an errant swing—we'd miss him, sure—and more about my own discomfort. I hate feeling crowded on the tee, because it reminds me of the nightmares I have where I'm hitting a shot with a wall behind me, and the impossibility of taking a full swing makes me want to die. (I'm a very rational dreamer.)
So, considering that we're recreational players with no gallery, what are some good rules for where to stand? Here are my informal guidelines, based on my own very powerful sense of golf righteousness:
1. Don't stand directly in front of where I'm hitting
Look, we have to cover the obvious ones for liability. If I didn't say this, then someone stood ten feet down the fairway and had their skull replaced by a Titleist? Instant lawsuit, Golf Digest out of business.
2. Don't stay in the cart
This feels rude. The only exception I'll make is when we're playing different tee boxes. If I hit from the whites, load up the driver, get in my cart, and then drive to the yellows for you, I'm not getting back out just to be social. I'll lean out of the cart to watch your ball and either compliment or insult you, but in that case it's okay to stay seated. Otherwise? Come on out, don't be a golf isolationist. And especially don't sit there on your phone and not even watch my ball.
3. Don't stand directly behind me
It's visually weird to have you straight behind me relative to where I'm aiming. It means I have to see you when I make my turn, and that's both off-putting and distracting. I'm too conscious of you, at a time when the most important thing in the world is that I hit this stupid ball down the fairway. If I make my turn and you're just standing there right behind me, it's literally the same as getting out of the shower and finding a stranger standing at the sink. Literally. If you do this, you're a shower perv. I don't make the rules.
4. Don't stand directly to the side in either direction
What is it about the cardinal directions that just feel off? Due north, south, east, and west are all nonstarters for me. Being off to the side where I can see you (think 3 o'clock, with 12 o'clock being straight down the fairway) is unspeakably awkward unless you're giving me a lesson or I've suddenly turned professional and you're a cameraman getting a down-the-line angle. Looking at a playing partner just standing there is the equivalent of finding a strange man staring at you through your living room window at night. GAH! POLICE! Behind is almost worse, because I can sense you without seeing you. I have no way of knowing that you're not sneaking up behind to strangle me. It's like the sense of being followed in the dark; very unsettling.
5. Do stand at 45 degree angles behind me
This is the sweet spot. Again, if 12 o'clock is straight down the fairway, you should be standing where the hour hand sits at 4:30 or 7:30. I know you're there, but you're just unobtrusive enough not to be distracting, and not in my direct line of sight. You're a comfortable blur. You're an unthreatening object. You're delightfully peripheral. I can swing freely even if you're fiddling with your divot repair tool and trying not to sneeze.
6. Don't stand so close to me
There's the irresistible Sting reference I've been holding back for 800 words. The appropriate distance from the person teeing off depends on the topography of the tee box, but in general I believe 15 feet is a good standard. Closer than that, and I'll assume you have no sense of social norms, or are actively trying to mess with me. Even 15 feet can be a little close—there's no harm in backing up even more—but we're all friends here, and we can't be too persnickety.
7. Don't be too persnickety
On the flip side of things, if people are generally obeying these rules, you can't be so uptight that you demand further concessions. It's rare, but I've both played with and heard tell of people with outrageous rules on where they want their partners to stand, to the point that it's annoying. You live in a society, pal—we're not here to indulge your hang-ups. Accept that other humans exist or stay inside vacuuming your rug over and over.
I put this question to Twitter, and the very smart people there mostly echoed my existing thoughts, but Michael here brought up something I'd neglected:
RELATED: Phil Mickelson pokes fun at this particular part of Patrick Cantlay's slow pre-shot routine
Great call. On greens, I will sometimes stand where the shadow of my putter is directly in someone's line, and then plunge it back and forth like a sword while they're setting up, until they notice the moving shadow and I get my reluctant laugh. Hilarious! On the tee, though, keep that shadow far away. With both 45-degree avenues available to you, this should be easy.
Thank you for listening to this very important PSA. If you know someone who violates standing etiquette, it is completely acceptable to send them this piece as an instructional guide, or to be a complete coward, send it to all your other friends, and say, "I wish that dumbass Keith would read this." One way or another, though, adhere to these rules, and none of us will ever hit a bad drive again.