In the first two parts of this series, I described how, at the turn of the 20th century, a group of British golfers led by John Low discovered the principles of strategic course design by analyzing—or “reading”—the Old Course at St Andrews.
Before I began researching this holiday project a few weeks ago, I had known only generalities about the pre-World War I period of golf architecture. The more I learned, the more I realized how profound an influence Low and his contemporaries had on the ensuing “Golden Age” of golf course design.
Lately I’ve begun to think of 1900-1910 as the most fascinating decade in the history of golf course design. This will sound odd to many who are familiar with the topic.
After all, the “Golden Age” of golf architecture is usually measured from the 1910s to the 1930s. That’s when classic courses like Pine Valley, Cypress Point, and Augusta National were built, and books like Alister MacKenzie’s Golf Architecture, Robert Hunter’s The Links, and George Thomas’s Golf Architecture in America were published. How could 1900-1910 measure up?
I’m no golf historian. Maybe that’s why, until recently, I hadn’t known that the discovery of strategic golf architecture was likely accidental.
According to Keith Cutten’s new book The Evolution of Golf Course Design, the Old Course at St Andrews was once a narrow affair, a ribbon of grass bordered by shrubland. The line of play was clear and non-negotiable. In the 1840s, golf got more popular, and the Old Course became busy. Probably in an effort to accommodate the increased traffic, Allan Robertson, the keeper of the links, widened the fairways and greens, clearing swaths of gorse and other scrub.
After reading my article on Le Golf National and the danger of abandoning strategic course design in professional golf, a Twitter user named David Knight made a suggestion:
Great idea, I thought, stupidly.
Sometimes you find yourself on the right golf course at the right time.
Early on a clear Sunday morning, my dad and I teed off on the back nine at Pacific Grove Golf Links. We couldn’t see the flights of our initial shots.
But then: light.
In the wake of the 2018 Ryder Cup, commentators pointed to the design and setup of host venue Le Golf National as a crucial factor in the European victory. Le Golf National has long been considered a ball-striker’s paradise, a course where accuracy off the tee and into the greens tends to be more important than raw power. Astutely, in preparing the venue for competition, Ryder Cup Europe grew out the rough and kept the fairways narrow. Team USA found its distance advantage largely neutralized, and Team Europe thrived on the ball-striking prowess of Tommy Fleetwood and Francesco Molinari.
Seeing this as a rare triumph of old-school precision over new-school power, some suggested that Le Golf National should be a model for future tour venues. This argument, which I will spend much of this post refuting, stems from a premise that actually I agree with: because of advances in ball, driver, and instructional technology, power off the tee has become a disproportionate advantage in the professional game.
In Southern California, between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara, there is a lesser-known region that offers some of the finest affordable golf in the United States. That region is Ventura County, and the courses include Buenaventura, Olivas Links, Rustic Canyon, and Soule Park. Last week, my dad and I played all four of these courses, and not once did we pay a green fee over $35.