IDEAL HOLES
There are few problems more difficult to solve than the problem of what
exactly constitutes an ideal hole. The ideal hole is surely one that
affords the greatest pleasure to the greatest number, gives the fullest
advantage for accurate play, stimulates players to improve their game,
and never becomes monotonous.
The real practical test is its popularity, and here again we are up
against another difficulty. Does the average player really know what
he likes himself? One often hears the same player expressing totally
divergent opinions about the same hole. When he plays it successfully, it
is everything that is good, and when unsuccessful it is everything that
is bad. It frequently happens that the best holes give rise to the most
bitter controversy. It is largely a question of the spirit in which the
problem is approached. Does the player look upon it from the “card and
pencil” point of view and condemn anything that has disturbed his steady
series of threes and fours, or does he approach the question in the
“spirit of adventure” of the true sportsman?
There are well-known players who invariably condemn any hole they have
taken over six for, and if by any chance they ever reach double figures,
words fail them to describe in adequate language what they think of that
particular hole.
It does not by any means follow that when a player condemns a hole in
particularly vigorous language he really dislikes it. It may be a source
of pleasure to his subconscious mind. Although condemning it, he may be
longing to play it again so as to conquer its difficulties.
Who is to judge what is an ideal hole? Is it one of our leading players,
or any golfer who simply looks upon it from his own point of view? I
have known of an open champion expressing his opinion that a certain
course was superior to any in Britain. As far as this particular course
is concerned, it is generally admitted by amateurs that, although the
turf and natural advantages were excellent, it had not a single hole of
any real merit. The local committee were also of opinion that it was
monotonous and lacking in real interest, and had decided to have it
entirely remodelled, before this world renowned open champion persuaded
them to change their minds by expressing such strong views in its favour.
There are, unfortunately, many leading players who wish a course to be
designed so that it will favour their own play and will not even punish
their indifferent shots, but will put any one below their particular
standard out of the running altogether.
There are many leading players who condemn the strategic aspect of golf.
They only see one line to the hole, and that is usually the direct
one. They cannot see why they should, as in dog-legged holes, be ever
compelled to play to one or other side of the direct line. A bunker
in the direct line at the distance of their long drives is invariably
condemned by them, because they do not realise that the correct line
is to one or other side of it. Why should not even an open champion
occasionally have a shot that the long handicap man is frequently
compelled to play?
Should a course or hole be ideal from a medal or match-playing point of
view? If it is necessary to draw any distinction between the two, there
can be little doubt that match play should always have prior claim. Nine
out of ten games on most good courses are played in matches and not for
medals. The true test of a hole is, then, its value in match play.
The majority of golfers are agreed, I think, that an ideal hole should be
a difficult one. It is true there are some who would have it difficult
for every one except themselves. These, who usually belong to the
pot-hunting fraternity, may be left out of consideration. It is the
successful negotiation of difficulties, or apparent ones, which gives
rise to pleasurable excitement and makes a hole interesting.
What kind of difficulties make interesting golf?
We can, I think, eliminate difficulties consisting of long grass, narrow
fairways, and small greens, because of the annoyance and irritation
caused by searching for lost balls, the disturbance of the harmony and
continuity of the game, the consequent loss of freedom of swing, and the
production of bad players.
We can also eliminate blind greens, blind bunkers, and blind approaches.
The greater the experience the writer has of designing golf courses, the
more certain he is that blindness of all kinds should be avoided. The
only form of blindness that should ever be permitted is the full shot up
to a green whose position is accurately located by surrounding sandhills.
Even in a hole of this kind, it is not the blindness that is interesting,
but the visibility of the surrounding sandhills. At the Maiden hole at
Sandwich, it was the grandeur and the impressiveness of the Maiden that
made it a good hole, and not the blindness of the green.
The difficulties that make a hole really interesting are usually those
in which a great advantage can be gained in successfully accomplishing
heroic carries over hazards of an impressive appearance, or in taking
great risks in placing a shot so as to gain a big advantage for the
next. Successfully carrying or skirting a bunker of an alarming or
impressive appearance is always a source of satisfaction to the golfer,
and yet it is hazards of this description which so often give rise to
criticism by the unsuccessful player. At first sight he looks upon it as
grossly unfair that, of two shots within a few inches of each other, the
one should be hopelessly buried in a bunker and the other should be in an
ideal position.
However, on further consideration he will realise that, as in dog-legged
holes, this is the chief characteristic of all good holes.
[Illustration: THE SECOND HOLE AT HEADINGLEY—COST £40. HUMMOCK AND
BUNKERS ENTIRELY ARTIFICIAL: a two-shot dog-legged hole; the photo is
taken along the line of the second shot.]
Holes of this description not only cater for great judgment, but great
skill: a man who has such confidence that he can place his ball within
a few feet of his objective gains a big advantage over a faint-hearted
opponent who dare not take similar risks. On a course, with holes of
this kind, match play becomes of intense interest.
In a perfect hole the surface of not only the green, but the approach to
it, should be visible. It is difficult, or even impossible, to judge an
approach accurately unless the ground which the ball pitches on can be
seen. It also gives great pleasure (or sometimes pain) to see the result
of one’s shot.
In an ideal hole, the turf should be as perfect as possible and the
approaches should have the same consistency as the greens, but it is by
no means advisable to avoid entirely bad lies or irregular stances. There
is not only much skill required, but an improvement of one’s game results
in occasionally having to play out of a cupped lie, or from an uneven
stance. There are few things more monotonous than always playing from a
dead flat fairway.
In an ideal long hole, there should not only be a big advantage from
successfully negotiating a long carry for the tee shot, but the longer
the drive, the greater the advantage should be. A shorter driver should
also, by extreme accuracy, be able to gain an advantage over a long
hitting but less accurate opponent.
An ideal hole should provide an infinite variety of shots according
to the varying positions of the tee, the situation of the flag, the
direction and strength of the wind, etc. It should also at times give
full advantage for the voluntary pull or slice, one of the most finished
shots in golf, and one that few champions are able to carry out with any
great degree of accuracy.
Should an ideal hole be ideal for the plus, scratch, or long handicap
player? As players of all handicaps play golf, a hole should as far as
possible be ideal for all classes. There are many famous holes, such as
the Cardinal, which are by no means ideal, as in an ideal hole there
should always be an alternative route open to the weaker player.
Are there any ideal holes in existence at the present moment?
I think the eleventh (the short hole coming in at St. Andrews) may be
considered so. Under certain conditions, it is extremely difficult for
even the best player that ever breathed, especially if he is attempting
to get a two, but at the same time an inferior player may get a four if
he plays his own game exceptionally well. It has been suggested that the
mere fact that it is possible to putt the whole length is an objection to
it. No doubt the timid golfer can play the hole in this way, but he will
lose strokes by avoiding risks. Even if an expert putter holes out in
four strokes once in three times, he can consider himself lucky. I do not
know of a solitary example of a player achieving success in an important
match by this means. If a cross bunker were constructed at this hole,
it would become appreciably diminished in interest in consequence. The
narrow entrance and the subtle slopes have all the advantages of a cross
bunker without making it impossible for the long handicap man. These
contentions are borne out by those attempts that have been made to copy
and improve on the hole by a cross bunker.
There are few, if any, other ideal short holes in existence. The seventh
and fourteenth on the Eden Course at St. Andrews are remarkably fine
holes, especially as they have to a great extent been artificially
created. At the present moment the gorse in places is somewhat near both
greens, but this can easily be rectified, and the architect, Mr. H. S.
Colt, was wise in not removing too many whins in the first instance, as,
if once removed, they cannot be replaced.
Another good example is the eighth at Moortown (formerly seventeenth, or,
as it is known locally, Gibraltar). Its length is 170 yards, and it has
been entirely artificially created at the small cost of £35.
[Illustration: THE EIGHTH GREEN AT MOORTOWN: 170 yards, entirely
artificial.]
The green has been constructed on a slight slope. The soil has been
removed from the lower portion of the slope to make the bunkers and to
bank up the green. The natural slope has been retained at the entrance
to the green, and, like the eleventh at St. Andrews, it is these subtle
slopes which lead a ball which has not been correctly hit, into the
adjacent bunkers, and in reality have very much the same effect as a
cross bunker without the hardship to the long handicap player.
The hole also shares with the eleventh at St. Andrews the necessity for
an infinite variety of shots according to varying conditions of wind,
position of flag, etc. One day it is a comparatively easy pitch with a
mashie, normally it is a straight iron shot, sometimes a full shot with a
trace of pull is required, and, again, it is necessary to slice so that
one’s ball is held up against the slope of the hill.
The green is delightfully picturesque. It is extremely visible against a
background of fir trees—it stands up and looks at you.
The contrast between the vivid green of the grass, the dark green of
the firs, the whiteness of the sand, the purple heather, and a vivid
background of rhododendrons, combined with the natural appearance
and extreme boldness of the contours, gives one a picture probably
unsurpassed by anything of a similar kind in nature.
[Illustration: EIGHTH HOLE, “GIBRALTAR,” MOORTOWN GOLF COURSE.]
It is not only a delightful hole to see, which at any rate appeals
subconsciously to the dullest of minds, but it is equally delightful to
play. It is less difficult than it appears. You feel you are taking your
life in your hands, and it therefore appeals, as Mr. Bernard Darwin says,
to the “spirit of adventure”—yet a well-played shot always gets its due
reward.
There are few, if any, ideal two- or three-shot holes in existence. Some
of those coming in at St. Andrews are almost, but not quite, perfect.
The sixteenth (Corner of the Dyke) hole at St. Andrews is almost ideal
for its length (338 yards). It was a particularly good hole at the time
of the guttie ball, and is so to-day for a short driver, like the writer.
As in the majority of good holes, it is the subtlety of the slopes that
makes it so.
[Illustration: THE SIXTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS.]
The green is tilted up slightly from right to left, and it would be a
better hole still if the inclination were greater. It is also guarded by
Grant’s and the Wig Bunkers on the left-hand side, so that the approach
from the right is easy, as all the slopes assist the players, and the
approach from the left is exceedingly difficult.
The point about the hole is that it is so difficult to get into the
best position to approach the green, because of the proximity of the
Principal’s Nose Bunker to the railway, and the difficulty of placing
one’s tee shot in such a small space with all the slopes leading to the
bunker. On the other hand, there is a perfectly easy route free from
all risk to the left of the Principal’s Nose, but the player in all
probability loses a stroke by taking it.
The fourteenth and seventeenth holes at St. Andrews are excellent holes,
full of dramatic incident in match play.
The fourteenth hole is probably the best hole of its length in existence.
Here, again, the hole is made by the slope of the green. There is a most
marked tilt up from left to right, so much so that it is impossible to
approach near the hole from the right. It is slopes of this kind which
are so often overlooked in designing a golf course, and it is one of the
most difficult things imaginable to construct them really well; but it is
subtleties of this nature which make all the difference between a good
course and a bad one.
At the fourteenth hole at St. Andrews this tilt of the green has a
considerable influence on the tee shot 530 yards away. Some years ago
there were four of us playing four ball matches nearly every day for a
month. We, according to our own judgment, attempted to play this hole
in four different ways. A played his tee shot well away to the left of
the Beardies on to the low ground below the Elysian Fields, so as to
place his second in a favourable position for his approach. B, who was
a long driver, attempted to carry the Beardies with his drive, Hell
with his second, and run up his third. C, who was a short but fairly
accurate hitter, attempted to pinch the Beardies as near as he dare,
and then played his second well away to the left, so as to play against
the slope of the green for his third. D took what was apparently the
straightforward route along the large broad plateau of the Elysian
Fields, and eventually landed in Hell or Perdition every time: he
invariably lost the hole.
This hole is very nearly ideal, but would be better still if the lie of
the land were such that the Beardies, the Crescent, the Kitchen, and Hell
Bunkers were visible and impressive looking. If these bunkers only looked
as terrifying and formidable as they really are, what thrills one would
get in playing this hole! What pleasurable excitement there would be in
seeing one’s second shot sailing over Hell!
[Illustration: FOURTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS: showing lines taken by A,
B, C, and D.]
It may be, however, that it is just as well these bunkers are blind. If
they had been visible, although in reality they would have been much
fairer, there would have been so many players crying out that it was most
unfair that bunkers should be placed in the exact position where perfect
shots go; that it was most iniquitous to have a hazard like the Beardies
180 yards from the tee exactly in the line for the hole; that the carry
over Hell for the second shot is over 400 yards from the tee; and that
the only way to play the hole was along the fairway to the fifth, etc.,
etc.
As these bunkers are blind, players do not notice these things, and the
lives of the Green Committee are saved.
The seventeenth hole at St. Andrews is almost too well known to need
description—it is probably the most noted hole in the world. Although so
difficult, it is by no means impossible for the long handicap player,
for he can go pottering along, steering wide of all hazards, and losing
strokes because he refuses to take any risks.
At this hole, once more, it is the slopes that give so much character to
the hole.
Even for the tee shot there is a ridge immediately beyond the corner of
the station-master’s garden which kicks your ball away from the hole
if you pitch to the left of it, and towards the hole if you pitch to
the right—in fact, an extra yard or two over the corner makes all the
difference in getting into a favourable position for the second shot.
There are also hillocks and ridges down the right-hand side, all forcing
an inaccurately placed shot into an unfavourable position for the
approach.
I often think that the hole would be more interesting without the
Scholar’s Bunker—the latter prevents a badly hit second getting into the
danger zone. If it were not there, one would much more frequently be
forced to play the sporting approach to the green with the road bunker
intervening. It is this road bunker, with the slopes leading a ball to
it, which makes this hole of such intense interest. Notwithstanding the
abuse showered on it, this bunker has done more to sustain the popularity
of St. Andrews than any feature on the course.
During the last few years there have been many good inland courses
constructed. Several of these, such as Swinley Forest, St. George’s Hill,
Sunningdale, Alwoodley, Moortown, Ganton, etc., have some excellent long
holes.
At Alwoodley, two of the dog-legged holes, the eighth and fifteenth,
are particularly good examples. The eighth is played from right to left
and the fifteenth from left to right. In each case the green has been
constructed with a marked side slope, so that the nearer the golfer plays
to the angle of the dog-leg, the greater the slope favours him.
[Illustration: THE SEVENTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS.]
In 1914 the writer designed an ideal two-shot hole which won the first
prize in a competition for Golfing Architecture, promoted by _Country
Life_.
In designing it, he attempted to produce an ideal hole among perfect
surroundings, and what could be more perfect than sand-dunes by the
seashore!
The hole is 420 yards long from the ordinary and 450 yards from the Medal
Tee.
An effort has been made to produce the old type of golf, in which a
player has no fixed line to the hole, but has to use his own judgment in
playing it, according to varying conditions of wind, etc.
The green is guarded by bunkers and a large hillock (20 feet high) on
the right of the approach, and is also tilted upwards from left to right
and from the front to the back, so that the approach from the left is an
easy one, and from the right necessitates such a difficult pitch that the
player is likely to overrun the green into the bunker beyond.
There are five possible routes to the hole, and the choice of the player
must vary from day to day, according to his length of drive, the state of
the weather, etc.
It caters for all classes of players—even the absolute beginner can take
No. 5 line. He loses strokes not by getting into bunkers, but by avoiding
risks, and probably takes five, or at least four, to reach the green in
consequence; nevertheless he enjoys his game, and not being disheartened,
he improves, until finally he may be able to achieve the boldest line of
all, and drive a fine ball straight to the hole.
He who takes the left-hand road by way of the island can also get home
in two; he has a shorter carry, but has to make up for this by extreme
accuracy.
There are many positions by the seashore where a hole of this kind could
be constructed, but it would be possible to make one of a similar type
inland, especially if the subsoil consisted of sand and the lie of the
land was favourable. The seashore could be replaced by bunkers, old
quarry workings, hummocky ground, rough, or even land out of bounds.
Success in construction depends entirely on expert supervision. It is
like all successful golf-course construction, a question of making
the best use of natural features and the devising of artificial ones,
indistinguishable from nature.
[Illustration: PLAN OF IDEAL TWO-SHOT HOLE OF 420 YARDS.]