The two best things to come out of Scotland are golf and economic theory. Adam Smith, born in Kirkcaldy in 1723, formalized the mechanics of supply and demand in The Wealth of Nations, writing, “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest.”
Smith didn’t mention golf facility operators and tee times specifically, but of course his “invisible hand” sets prices there, too.
Why is this so topical for America in 2026? The huzzah records of the post-COVID golf boom—the National Golf Foundation reports 48.1 million Americans played golf or hit balls last year, 3.3 million beginners tried the course, total rounds are up 16 percent, and on and on—have everyone in the golf biz clinking glasses after two lean decades. While soaring initiations at private clubs and elevated green fees at high-profile resorts have made for bug-eyed conversation, the heart of golf has stayed in check. The average 18-hole public round costs $41—a 27 percent increase since 2019 that’s in lockstep with inflation.
But there’s an unintended consequence of this positive momentum that defies statistical description: How many junior golfers are getting squeezed amid the surge in demand?
The other afternoon I was picking up a repaired club from a golf studio in my hometown. It was stunning spring weather, and being the cornball dad I’ve become, I asked the kids hanging around the simulators why they weren’t outside playing real golf. One by one, they gravely cited the tee-sheet situation at every course in the area.
For all the wonderful new programs and initiatives that put golf clubs in small hands, it can be easy to forget that the general psyche of the junior player mostly remains unchanged. They’re easily intimidated, and know that the restrictions on when they can play always stand to tighten whether they remember to keep their shirt tucked in or not. If Adam Smith could see all the new short courses popping up today, he wouldn’t begrudge the owners who’d rather first sell slots to the bros who are also buying IPAs. (Credit to baseball, a sport that doesn’t usually let men’s beer league take over the T-ball fields.)
I found a validating voice when I bemoaned all this to former World No. 1 David Duval. “If I ever own a course, I’d flip the script and make it so no one over age 16 could tee off before noon on Saturdays,” Duval says. “Too many courses nowadays don’t allow golfers under age 8. You’ve already lost four years!”
One of the most successful organizations at promoting junior golf is Youth on Course, which raises money from individual philanthropists and corporate partners to subsidize green fees currently at 2,300 courses, so kids pay just $5 each time they play. What was an enrollment of 70,000 kids young than 19 pre-pandemic is now 400,000.
“Tee-time compression is a real thing, and it’s been harder and harder to provide access,” says Adam Heieck, CEO of Youth on Course. “We want to be a good partner to our courses, and a lot of conversations lately have been about us increasing the subsidy or even offering a higher, flat subsidy.”
As courses have removed weekends or dialed back to fewer days a week, Heieck has pursued off-course opportunities for his members, such as simulator time at Golf Galaxy and Dick’s Sporting Goods. “That has been great, but we all know you fall in love with the game by playing on a course,” Heieck says.
Rather than looking at the burden of accommodating a surge of junior golfers on our tee sheets, how might we collectively shift to see this as an opportunity? The jury is still out regarding what kinds of citizens YouTube golf videos create, but we know the effects of spending time outdoors on a golf course, absorbing etiquette and integrity from peers and mentors, tend to be positive. As for nurturing the love of the game to create a bigger pipeline of lifelong golf consumers, we know what Adam Smith would say.
This article was originally published on golfdigest.com
