Thanks, because I don't want to mention the name of the guy in my story. All I'll say is that most people here would probably recognize the name. (It was NOT Arnie, Jack, or Gary.)

It's the mid-1960s. Me, the old man (also named Jim; then-chairman of the Rules Committee at the course where he played), and his buddy Duke are at the Philadelphia Open. It's early in the day; only a few spectators are following the group we're following.

Player X has come up about 20 yds short on his approach shot to a par 4. The other spectators have gone up to the green; the three of us are about 10 yds directly opposite Player X, wanting to see him play his chip.

He's in the fairway, but his ball had the bad luck to settle in the middle of a weed (dandelion, probably), such that the ball is resting up against a small leaf of the weed, right where the clubface will hit, preventing clean contact.

X leans down to remove loose impediments. No problem. Then he touches the offending leaf. As we can see from our vantage point, the leaf is clearly healthy, nice and green. X tugs gently at it. It doesn't budge. Tugs again, a little harder. Leaf hangs on. Tugs again. This time the leaf is broken free, with an audible snap.

Duke turns to my old man and loudly asks, "Hey, Jim, he ain't allowed to do that, is he?" My father, just as loudly replies, "Heck no, he ain't!" Player X looks up and gives us a sheepish grin. He then chips on and makes the putt for his "par."

We later determined that his failure to call the penalty on himself cost the guys immediately below him in the standings about $700 each, as I remember (smaller purses in those days). Can't think of this guy without remembering that incident.