We must, from time to time, be reminded of what an absurdly honorable game is golf. Otherwise it has little but scenery to recommend it.

We notice that Craig Stadler has been relieved of $37,333 because somebody saw him on TV hitting a golf ball while kneeling on a towel.

The reaction to such inventiveness should be applause. Maybe next he will do something marvelous with a blindfold and a rocking chair.

But golf takes itself much too seriously to be curious.

So severe was this violation of the integrity of golf that snitches felt duty-bound to telephone the PGA gendarmes, who cannot be everywhere.

Stadler, they insisted, should have been penalized two shots, for what is still not clear to me. Tidiness I assume.

None of this came up until a day after it happened, when TV showed replays. Since Stadler had signed his scorecard from the previous round, he was automatically disqualified, costing him a share of second-place money in the Andy Williams Open.

And you thought football instant replays took forever.

When advised of his crime, Stadler surrendered without asking to see the warrant or a lawyer. His chief regret appears to be that he did not know the rule well enough to turn himself in.

It is this kind of impeccable honesty that separates golf from other sports, that and the complete lack of perspiration. Golfers do not sweat, or if they do, they don`t smell bad enough to change shirts for dinner.

The rules of golf are many, and unforgiving. A couple of years ago, Denis Watson lost the U.S. Open to Andy North because Watson waited a few seconds too long for a putt to topple off the lip of the cup.

Hale Irwin blew the British Open because he whiffed a putt, though only he knew he had done it.

The most famous incident of all time featured Roberto DeVicenzo signing an incorrect scorecard (one that was kept by partner Tommy Aaron) to lose the Masters. ''I am such a stupid,'' DeVicenzo said, blaming only himself.

Golf is the one sport that does not require policemen. Not like baseball, which employs four of them, six for championships. Or football, which has seven and a replay official.

I`ve lost track of how many tennis has, but it needs them all.

In other sports, whatever you get can away with is legal. Somebody holds on every play in football. Nobody confesses.

Awful things happen in basketball when the referees aren`t looking. Holding, shoving, gouging. Strategic fouling is an essential part of winning. The spitball is taught, caught and denied by everybody on the same baseball team. The biggest controversy in last year`s playoffs was whether Houston`s Mike Scott scuffed his pitches or not. His answer: ''Prove it.''

In golf, all the proof that is needed is a conscience.

A couple of years ago, Andy Bean won the Doral Open with a shot that TV viewers insisted should have included a penalty. Bean had knocked some leaves off a limb during a practice backswing and telephone calls flooded the clubhouse.

There was no rule violation, but Bean was so distressed that anyone would think he cheated that he offered to give back the trophy and the money.

At Pebble Beach, in the early `70s, when Arnold Palmer was at the top of his popularity, TV viewers saw him on the 18th tee looking down the fairway with binoculars. Callers demanded that he be penalized for using artificial assistance.

Turns out, Palmer was looking at some war protesters who had chained themselves to a tree, which was not illegal.

Neither the looking nor the protesting. Unless they had improved their lie.