The Scarcity Of Good Courses

The enormous cost of making and maintaining a fine course in America is probably accountable for the fact that good courses are very few and far between. There is, perhaps, another reason; and that is the fact that country clubs were in existence before golf was ever mentioned, and when the new pastime was introduced the country clubs had to make the best of the property at hand, instead of looking for the most suitable natural location. Shinnecock Hills is one of the few sites for a golf club which seems to have been chosen with an eye to the best possibilities of the game. Other spots have been selected either because they were close to already existing clubs, or because they were within easy reach of the great cities. As a result there is not a single course in America which really compares with the best links in Great Britain. And the sooner we acknowledge that fact the better it will be for the game in this country. Where we generally make a mistake is in believing that an inland course can ever be made the equal of a North Berwick or St. Andrews. Not that I would in any way detract from the praise due to the skill and energy which have been displayed in the laying out of some of our best links. Here, at all events, we have one of the important features of the development of golf on this side of the Atlantic. In Great Britain there is no such thing as an inland course which in any way approaches perfection, the reason being that there are so many seaside links within easy reach that the improvement of those situated away from the sea is hardly worth the expense.

Here we certainly have inland courses which infinitely surpass anything of the same nature in Great Britain, and - what is far more to the point - really present a first-class test of golf. Visitors to America from the home of golf in Scotland have often expressed surprise at the wonderful way in which natural difficulties have been over come. And since most of our courses must of necessity be removed from the sea, it is most gratifying to observe the great improvement which has taken place in a very short space of time. But, nevertheless, it is necessary to keep the ideal constantly in view, and to remember that with the best intentions in the world we still fall very far short of perfection.

The Inferiority Of Inland Courses

There are two respects in which inland courses must always, humanly speaking, fall short of the natural seaside links, and especially those which, like Prestwick, Sandwich and Machrihanish - to name only three out of a very large number - have been singularly favored by Providence. The turf on the inland course may be as good as possible, but it will never yield that fine quality of putting which makes the short game on the great courses so interesting. Seaside grass is a thing entirely sui generis; it is the only grass which presents that smooth billiard table surface, so familiar to old golfers. On inland putting greens the turf may be so excellent that there is never any excuse for missing a put of two yards; but the ball travels in a different way; it never trickles from the club into the hole as the ivory trickles into the pocket of a billiard table. And that is where the real science of putting is exhibited. The man who is accustomed to play on well kept inland putting greens is sure to find himself hopelessly at sea when he comes to play over the genuine golfing turf, where the ball must be struck with the most delicate touch.

Secondly, it is practically impossible to reproduce by artificial means the great sand bunkers which are peculiar to the coast of Great Britain. It is just conceivable that such bunkers might be constructed inland, but the expense would be so enormous that the possibility may well be ignored. And so the awe inspiring effect of a large sand bunker stretching for a hundred yards or more in front of the tee, and rising very often to the height of an ordinary house, is unknown to those who play only on inland courses, where bunkers are nothing but inconsiderable trenches, very ruinous, perhaps, to a score, but quite devoid of any power to destroy the nerve of the poorest player.

I have often heard complaints made against the number of bunkers upon our best courses; and yet the fact is that there is not a single course in this country which has one-third of the number of sand bunkers which may be encountered at St. Andrews, and not one whose bunkers piled all together would make a hazard of the dimensions of "the Maiden" at Sandwich or the "Himalayas" at Prestwick.

For that reason it will be readily understood that there is less distinction here between a first-class and a second-class player than in Great Britain; for the character of the courses is such that innumerable drives may be missed without any serious penalty. Even where there are regular bunkers in front of the tee, they are so small that they only catch a few out of the many bad shots which are played. It may be argued, of course, that the same remark applies to St. Andrews, where it is possible to top at least twelve out of your eighteen tee shots and yet go unscathed. But then, St. Andrews is perhaps the only first-class course where such a state of things exists, and there are so many compensations in the shape of scattered bunkers through the course, and the holes are laid out so perfectly in the matter of distance, that the one failing is not so serious as it might be.

The Remedies

There are two ways of getting over the bunker difficulty on inland courses; neither of them is altogether satisfactory, but both may be employed with advantage. To begin with, whether your bunkers are large enough or not, it is always well to arrange your holes at such distances apart that a bad drive will be of necessity punished, whether it lands the ball in a hazard or not. Secondly, it is always possible, in summer, at least, to let the grass grow for about a hundred yards in front of the tee, so that a topped ball cannot run very far, and the second shot will in all likelihood be spoiled. The only objection to this plan is that it becomes monotonous, and also tends to a great loss of balls. If it has to be resorted to, the grass should be kept carefully cut to such an extent that the ball cannot very well run through it for any distance, and yet will not be entirely concealed from view. For every other reason except to punish bad driving, long grass is a thing to be strenuously avoided in the fair course. It is a certain cause for the loss of valuable gutta percha, and therefore for the wasting of much more valuable time.