MR. SPEAKER, you've just turned in a subpar performance.
Ace golfer that you are, you probably think congratulations are in order.
Alas, I'm not talking golf here, but politics.
Let's face it: You bogeyed the appropriate-appearances hole of the public affairs course.
It's really not that difficult. A wide, generous fairway, with just a few hazards to keep clear of.
Like, say, the sand trap of special access for monied interests.
Or the murky pond of possible proffered favors.
It shouldn't be hard for an accomplished pro like you. And yet, you sure misplayed this one.
Your friend Joe O'Donnell, a top shareholder at Suffolk Downs - an establishment that hopes to build a casino - has told the Globe that he's golfed with you twice recently in Florida, once with you as his guest. While on the links, the two of you talked about the issue of casino gambling, O'Donnell said.
Meanwhile, an employee of the Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach has said you were supposed to play with Donald Trump the weekend before last, but that the game was canceled. Trump, of course, also has an interest in seeing gaming come to Massachusetts.
Asked about the invitation to golf with Trump, you told reporters on Monday that you had never accepted it, though you said your brother-in-law might have, initially.
"I refused the invitation because I didn't think it was appropriate for me to be there," you said. "So I think that should be something that should be lauded."
Why, perhaps Petro - excuse me, make that distinguished House Speaker Pro Tempore Thomas Petrolati - could work up a resolution hailing you, Sal DiMasi, as an elected Ulysses who, during your recent odyssey to Florida, lashed yourself to the public policy mast in your determination to avoid the sirens' call of celebrity golf.
And yet, my inner skeptic can't help but suspect that what really happened is this: You backed out of a planned golf game with The Donald after discovering the Globe had gotten wind of it. That's why, rather than using a word like laudable, I'd go with "wary" or "wily" or "cagey." Any of the three would be a more apt description of the cunning legislative leopard I know.
But if you truly aspire to laudable behavior, here's something to consider: Your standard should be less that of a modern public-sector Caesar (I came, I saw, I golfed) and more like the conduct the ancient Caesar expected of his wife. Which is to say, to be above reproach.
Now, everyone knows your weakness for golf. Your linksmanship helped make a hash of your first year as speaker. It wasn't just the embarrassing story in 2005 when the Globe found out about your frequent weekdays on the fairways. Leaning so lightly into your job as speaker rendered the House's already leisurely pace positively languid.
You've done better since, digging in and establishing yourself as a force to be reckoned with.
But always, there's the lure of the links.
On Monday, you insisted you always pay your share when you golf, though your office declined to provide evidence of reimbursements.
"In cases like this, he has the person who is the member send him the bill so he can pay," explained David Guarino, your spokesman. "In this case, he is waiting for the bill."
That, however, isn't what O'Donnell initially told the Globe. He first said you couldn't pay because the exclusive Florida course where you were his guest "won't accept it." Several days later, after your office had become aware the Globe was preparing a story, O'Donnell called to say he would get a bill and send it to you.
That's no doubt laudable as well.
And yet, to my inner skeptic, it looks a lot like post facto damage control.
From what people say, you and O'Donnell really are longtime friends. Still, when you've become a top state policymaker, appearances are crucial. Whether you ultimately say OK to gambling or become even firmer in your opposition, the public has a right to expect your position is determined strictly on the merits, and not in any way because you've been cajoled by a friend on the links - or because you are reacting defensively to an embarrassing story.
"I take my job very seriously," you said on Monday.
As seriously as you do your golf game?
Scot Lehigh's e-mail address is lehigh@globe.com
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