The cloth
A kettle does not take the printed size as the count. The peel does.
Rosin cloth records the layers a rigger actually wound, not the layers the box promised. A golf grip does the same on West Pine: extra tape sits under the lower hand long before the player believes the size has grown.
We slit the old wrap, count the cloth at two stations, then we measure the butt with a ring we keep honest against a pine dowel. If the stack only lifts after a truck-hot hour, the problem is humidity, not a builder who over-taped. If it sits fat cold, Lyle marks a drop.
When the pitching face is four layers deep and the four-iron is still two, we refuse a single size verdict. That bag is two handles on one still. The wedge loses a wrap; the four stays until a later kettle.
People who want one number for every grip are asking the camp to average a dip-axe with a file handle. The kettle keeps separate counts.