Difficulty was all the rage in the 1960s through the ’80s. Few things were as esteemed as lush turf and a design that could bring the best players to their knees. The opposite was also true—a golf course thought to be too placid could cause clubs extreme insecurity. When Lee Trevino shot four rounds under 70 during the 1968 U.S. Open, the membership at Oak Hill Country Club, fearing it would lose status with the USGA, panicked and went into full renovation mode to beef up its defenses even though the winning score was just 5-under and only two players broke par.
Difficulty was once synonymous with perceived greatness, and from the 1960s onward, architects designed “championship” courses marketed as cutting-edge and custom-built for tournaments. This meant lengths in excess of 7,200 yards with strict shot demands, fortress greens framed by bunkers, water and lots of rough. Golf Digest embraced “tournament toughness” in our America’s 100 Greatest Courses ranking, rewarding hardness in a category called “Resistance to Scoring.” The result was the elevation of relentless labyrinths like Firestone Country Club (South), Cog Hill #4, Butler National, Hazeltine National, Concord and Doral’s Blue as architectural ideals (the last two went by the nickname “Monster”).
The roots of championship adulation sprouted in the post-World War II years with the rise of the professional tour. Advances in club and ball technology were also factors, as were the unintended consequences of tree-planting programs that narrowed fairways. Mid-century modernizations of pre-Depression courses made them longer, sleeker and, yes, more tournament-tough.
Few lament the banishment of the backbreaking designs of the 1970s, but it’s fair to ask if golf design has moved too far in the opposite direction.
As these types of courses gained accolades and attention, architects, clubs and developers kept feeding the beast, flooding the top end of the market with more “championship” designs that took pride in being hard and durable. It was good business. The 1975 version of our 100 Greatest ranking featured 41 courses designed between 1960 and 1974. In the 1985 edition, there were 42 courses that opened between 1960 and 1980.
We’re in a much different place now. Over the past 20 years, golf has come to the not-surprising realization that most people don’t enjoy losing balls and hacking out of deep grass. Courses should be challenging; otherwise, the game would be dull, but they don’t need to be purposefully difficult, and virtually no architect today sets out to build a “championship” course. Importantly, there’s been a broader cultural shift that embraces designs that permit golfers to play well and shoot good scores. Success leads to enjoyment—and happy customers who want to come back.
As a result, golf courses have become wider, less cluttered by trees and more forgiving. Architects and developers now strive for interesting and dynamic golf that embraces the natural landscape, where the focus is on strategic options rather than forced shot shapes. The change is evident in the current America’s 100 Greatest Courses ranking, where just seven designs built between 1960 and 1980 remain, replaced by newer courses that allow golfers to play holes with more latitude and less punishment.
The shift away from the stringent championship model is indicative of how golf moves through phases. The establishment’s reign gives way to a desire for the new, which in turn kindles appreciation for the old. Ease of use creates a demand for more difficulty, which is eventually rejected in favor of playability. Few lament the banishment of the backbreaking designs of the 1970s, but it’s fair to ask if golf design has moved too far in the opposite direction. It would be entirely in character for architects to start pumping a little more attitude into their courses again.
This article was originally published on golfdigest.com
