1. Containment Mounds
The architectural feature that I dislike the most is the containment mound. The containment mound is a uniform hill that rises up from the native grade with no relation to the land that surrounds. It is commonly employed to create separation between holes and to supply definition to a landing area or green site. They are particular appalling when combined to run the entire length of the hole under the pretence of creating an artificial valley. No amount of fescue can hide these bad boys.
Alister Mackenzie explained to all of us how important it was to create new features that look like existing features so that they blend back into the surroundings. The containment mound never blends back into the surroundings since its purpose is to block everything else out from view and focus the eye on the golf hole. Trees, adjacent holes the natural flow of the land and the scenery beyond the hole are all lost when containment mounds are used.
They also create technical problems since they tend to flank holes and they direct water into the centre of the hole. Since this is where the fairway is located, they often a contributor to the development of wet fairway turf and serious compaction problems. For Northerners like me they certainly contribute to ice development and damage. The common technique to deal with the technical problems created by them is to build an extensive and expensive system of catch basins and sub-surface drainage. Not only are they particularly ugly but the expense related to stripping topsoil, adding drainage systems and earthmoving is such a waste of resources.
2. Area Drains in Fairways and Chipping Areas
One of the reasons I enjoy older courses is because you still see the natural flow of the land uninterrupted by man-made contours. I even prefer flat fairways over ones that have been shaped to create artificial rolls. The modern idea seems to be that fairways must be rolling to be interesting and receptive to be fair. Because of this ideal often fairways are reshaped to achieve both. In order to make this work most architects have come to rely on the use of area drains in the fairway to deal with the water.
The new fairways not only come across as contrived but usually feature a “moon like” appearance where the area drains have been used. The placement is often so uniform and predictable that the shaping around the basins often upstages the bunkering. Even courses I love like Tobacco Road come across as over-shaped due to the extensive use of area drains in the landing areas.
The main reason they are used is to collect water and get it underground as quickly as possible so that play will continue uninterrupted after rain. The problem with this technique is it has secondary implications. The low areas around the basins tend to remain wet. They also are notorious for compaction and ice damage along with consistently weak turf. Since most balls shots tend to collect in the low points the lies are often poor in these areas, or worse in a divot since they concentrate wear into small areas. I’ve never understood their extensive use since they are expensive, create agronomic problems and make the course look artificial.
3. Target Bunkers
The ideal bunker is one that you have to either fly over or skirt by in order to gain a clear advantage on the hole. When you stand over the ball, you should be conflicted between the advantages that you can gain versus the punishment you may receive for being too ambitious.
The target bunker is largely a modern concept. Robert Trent Jones began the practice of bunkering the inside and outside of a dogleg to require absolute precision of driving. Architects in turn were drawn to the definition that this design philosophy created and set about utilizing the ideas to suit their own philosophy. Most Architects adapted this to a more playable model than Jones. As the bunkers were moved further away from the landing zone were enlarged we ended up with bunkers that were out of reach but ideal for aiming at. Hence the target bunker was born. Players have become used to this luxury and architects now routinely add the bunkers because of their popularity.
The dominant style of architecture in the 1980’s and 1990’s believed in clarity of task. While the designs contained challenge, interest and even options, they also included target bunkers designed to make direction and placement absolutely understandable from the tee. Their philosophy was not interested in discovery and because the tasks were so well defined instead sought clarity.
I believe the bunkers on the inside of the hole are the ones that define the challenge and create risk and reward scenarios. The only real use for a target bunker is to provide a line when there is no other feature available for a player to focus on. I’ll argue forever that with trees, long grass and landforms all found on the outside of holes target bunkers are completely unnecessary, expensive and a waste of resources to maintain.
4. Two Bunker Styles on One Course
In nature there is as much variety as there is repetition and since great architecture comes from reflecting what we see in nature golf architecture must also have some repetition and consistency too.
In golf architecture most would select variety as the key component to creating superior golf courses, but consistency plays an equally important role in drawing all the individual pieces back into the broader canvas. The variety is hopefully greatest in the playing experience whereas the consistency is usually more predominant in the style or aesthetics of the course.
I have found through my own experiences that bunkering is generally the most common element what links the course together. This is a particularly important element when there is a transition from one setting to a completely different one on the golf course. The key to the success of a course like Cypress Point is the linking of the dunes to the forest to the ocean side through the bunkering.
I have recently gone out to see a couple of really good modern designs where the bunker work was done in multiple styles. I found that despite some great holes and some really good bunkers, the architecture felt disjointed. In particular a couple of designs tried to combine naturalized bunkering with formalized bunker and the results were so jarring as to be distracting. You can add an element that contrasts with the land or one that compliments the landscape, but in my opinion you can’t place two similar elements like bunkers that work in contrast to each other.
5. Island Greens
Golf Digest once had a golfer tournament where they took the four worst “avid” golfers and had the group play 18 holes against each other at the TPC at Sawgrass. Three of them ran out of balls at the 17th. The one remaining player putted his way around the pond including going up the causeway with a putter in order to preserve his last ball so that he could finish and win. Is that really good golf?
The 17th at the TPC at Sawgrass may be one of the greatest spectator holes in tournament golf, but it may also be the single worst architectural concept of all time since it creates a situation where a player may not be able to finish a round due to the absolute nature of this hole. This is a hole with no recovery options, unless the island is expanded beyond the green to include additional surroundings, but I’ve played a couple of those in high wind and even the additional area does not overcome the fact that there is really nowhere to miss.
Every shot becomes either land or lost. The approach shot is a forced carry and there is no alternative route or safe play for the weakest players to reach the green. A player could easily find themselves in a position where they can not finish the round and that sucks. My personal belief is that recovery is a key component of the game and this concept has no recovery and no options, therefore its bad design.
6. Artificial Ponds
I had the chance to look at someone else’s Master Plan for a new golf course built on flat land a few years back and was taken aback by the approach. It was the typical approach where every time the architect was faced with limited natural features he simply dug a pond to create a pond at the green in the perceived notion that this would add interest. I counted water directly in play on nine green sites including most of the threes and fives. The architect had four holes with water in play from the tee all the way to green and two of those were par fives that doglegged around a large pond all the way to green. If I lived there, I would play Tennis.
The reliance on water as a primary hazard probably began with Robert Trent Jones but it quickly became a staple of modern design. That was the era where “Championship” courses became the vogue and the use of the water hazard was seen as key defence in order to protect par. Since most sites did not offer natural bodies of water, the architects simply added ponds where required at the green sites to add the challenge. Photographers were drawn to the water and the popularity of the holes soared.
The problem came when the “average” player was facing the same level of challenge on an increasing basis. They are far more fearful and intimidated by water since they lack the control to continually avoid hazards. A ball in the water represents two lost shots, whereas a bunker may represent no lost shots if a great recovery is made. Water’s judgment of the shot is absolute and final and in many cases the player is forced to repeat the shot until they succeed or pick up.
I’m not total against the inclusion of water or even completely against “a” pond. In fact I do like the incorporation of streams, burns, rivers and lakes into a design. But I abhor the continuous use of ponds to bring water in play throughout the round as lazy and dull. I particularly question the need to constantly bring water hard up against the green when the hazard can be varied like the placement of bunkers. Water certainly has its place, but the architect who continually places water in play simply frustrates me and the average player who plays their courses.
7. Trees in the Direct Line of Play
We can all think of memorable holes where a majestic Oak or Maple sets the corner of a dogleg or stages a great green site. We are awed by the scale of those trees and find it exciting to play a shot that flirts with the tree in order to reach our intended target. These are not the trees that I am about to talk about.
A.W. Tillinghast stated the trees can have strategic value as long as it “does not interfere with the sound play of the game” The problem that I consistently run into time and time again is that most courses have planted trees inside of the tree lines trying to reinforce “strategy” and ended up with a jail effect each time the player strays off line.
When you think about the tree as a hazard, it represents the only vertical hazard in the game. Even a perfectly struck shot can be knocked down by the branching structure and redirected into deeper trouble. Where committees have made their greatest mistakes is when they place trees they forget that they will mature and eventually remove all the options on the hole if planted in the wrong spot. As Donald Ross said, “Trees should serve perhaps as the scenery, but never as part of the stage.”
The most offensive of all trees is the one “in” the fairway proper. There is nothing more frustrating than seeing a situation where a player can hit their very best down the centre of the fairway only to have their tee shot knocked down by the tree or become stymied on their next shot. There is not a single great tree found in a fairway in golf, each is as ridiculous and inexcusable as the last. Their only value comes one year after they are cut down when the firewood is dried out enough to make it to the clubhouse fireplace.
8. Consistently Narrow Drving Zones
One of the greatest surprises I ever had was playing Pine Valley. I went there expecting to be tortured by an impossibly hard course where every miss was a disaster. The misses were indeed nasty but the fairways were surprisingly generous leaving the opportunity to challenge the course. I found Pine Valley to be very tough, but very enjoyable because the fairways were wide.
I’m not a fan of overly narrow courses. Narrow holes have their place, but a course that is consistently narrow from start to finish is very one dimensional to me. Sometimes it’s the architecture and other times it’s simply the way the course is set up. I recently played Royal Portrush where I found the landings very narrow and the rough impossibly thick. I absolutely loved the course but was very disappointed in the way it was presented. Even a little wind makes the course a ferocious test, played in the standard three club wind the test is too much for all but the elite.
Other courses are narrow because of the trees. A few years back I went to walk Marine Drive in British Columbia and was flabbergasted by the narrowness of the fairway corridors. In their defence the course is built on a tiny property. Each hole is walled in with trees which in turn make the playing corridors so narrow that even a slightly pushed or pulled tee shot was certain to find wood. What was even more mind-blowing was the new planting of trees inside those tree lines on a couple of holes.
The very worst course I ever saw was designed by Gary Player. This was a course in Florida which had every single landing areas flanked by ponds on one side and bunkers and trees on the other side. What made it unbelievably narrow was the fact that all the landing areas were crowned. Any shot heading towards the edge was kicked further into the trouble. I think he should be forced to play there every day as penance.
It doesn’t matter how you create the squeeze in the landings, it’s the impact it has since it removes all the options for the player and turns the game into a test of execution. There is no test of conviction or decision making because everything is dictated from the outset. Even the best designs can become victims of a poor set up.
For example on the same trip I played Pine Valley I also played Merion. I greatly admired the routing and bunker placement but was stunned that the fairways were so narrow and the rough so thick and deep. I felt the narrow fairways took away any opportunity to play for position or challenge some of the architecture. It was always smarter to play something safe and straight. There was far too much emphasis on the rough over all other hazards. I would like to play the course without the rough to see where I would choose to play to and what new risks I would take on.
9. Wide Greens with fronting bunkers
An elite player rarely misses short or long. They tend to have excellent distance control and will usually club themselves effectively if there is no wind or elevation to deal with. They miss more often on the left or right, particularly when they are required to work a ball or come in from the rough. Therefore a wide green has a tremendous benefit for the better player.
A weaker player tends to miss most often in short of the green because they have either miss-hit or misjudged the approach shot. They will find themselves left or right of the green and occasionally through but the vast majority of shots wind up short. Wide greens tend to be fronted with bunkers making this a particularly tough test for the weaker player.
A strong player is rarely intimidated by a carry over bunkers into a green. They have more issues dealing with a narrow target or a green that slopes to the side than trying to make a carry. In fact a fronting bunker often makes the shot clearer and easier to execute since the carry clearly defines the distance and they also know the bunker is a good place to miss since it will play directly into the slope of the green making the recovery likely. The weaker player hates this situation because they fear bunkers, have limited trajectories and often limited ability to hit the ball far enough to make the carry.
The final issue is scale. A green that is shallow and wide is running in direct contrast to the flow of the hole and usually the flow of the land. When they are wide often they overwhelm the setting of the green site and appear completely out of scale.
10. The Predictable Finish
I can’t think of anything more predictable and disappointing than having the final hole be the toughest on the course. This is such an epic letdown for me. How often have you got to the final tee to find a back breaking par four with water in play from tee to green? Not only is the hole staggeringly long, but you have to face the prospect of any miss being catastrophic.
I’m sure the designer probably pictures an Open being contested there, but the reality is they are almost always at high end public courses where most players are two sleeves further into the round than they want to be already. They just want one par to justify the six hours lost from the office.
It’s time that golf architects thought more carefully about the role of the finishing hole. We don’t need to look further than the 18th at Olympic, a short uphill par four with a decidedly tricky approach shot. It’s still a great finish, even during a US Open. Winged Foot’s 18th is longer, but not overly long, and is defended mostly by a very aggressive shoulder and a wicked green rather than bunkers or water.
Why don’t we see more holes that we can attack at the end of the round? I love St. Andrew’s 18th where a birdie is completely in the cards but the hole is still full of danger if you become foolish. Think about all the links courses and the finishing holes. None have water beyond the occasional burn and yet many are brilliant at shorter distances. It’s such a pleasure to have a realistic opportunity for par, particularly when you’ve faced many other tough holes along the way.
It’s time to mix up are finishing holes a little more and stop being so damned formulaic. We need a lot more quality finishing holes with much less emphasis on distance and difficulty as the key elements of the final hole.
Dishonorable Mentions:
Tees with Contour
Opening on a Par Five