During the discussion of Friars Head #10, Tom Doak, playing Devil’s Advocate, as he sometimes likes to do,:) mentioned of the non-existence of strategy on one-shot holes (Par 3’s)
While feeling that this is a subject that could be argued till the end of time I’m not quite sure which way I’m leaning, but the following images may leave a pretty good understanding what I think. We need to look to England and Wales and Scotland for the answers. You see, a blind tee-shot, one-shotter was common back way on yonder, and isn’t an element that was much favored by most of the Golden Age Architects who more then likely didn’t care for it or the hill-climbing. Call this a once in a lifetime disagreement if you will, but I don’t think I neccesarily agree, opting to really dig out the dinosaur that Rich Goodale says that lives with-in me.
The fact is I really enjoy the G.B. courses for studying architecture as much as our American versions. It is evident that at the turn of the 19th century that Golf was VERY natural and very much alive and well, even before the start of the Golden Age in America. Despite rapid changes even over the pond, they still know the Game better then 95% of us here in America. (i.s. fast firm, rough-edged bunkering [which is fast disappearing] walking, the lack of GPS devices, etc.)
I feel that there is something to be said of a certain strategy in all architecture which sort of works backwards, starting at the green and continuing back further from there. (greenside hazards to fairway hazards; natural occurring features, such as naturally occurring contours and even--gulp--artificially constructed ones!; Variety of options from the tee. You see, on most of the GREAT courses that I have seen and played, strategy allows us to position ourselves to the easiest or most realible place for us to achieve our intended goal--being in the hole. And somewhere in between that it’s as almost as if a whole new game begins--on the green, which is challenging us further, to get the ball into the hole. This is where interesting and subtle contours on the putting surface make their mark. From images, it I looks to me that Friars Head #10 not only properly defends that intended “goal” but also encourages many aspects of play to get it there. It also looks to be somewhat blind if it indeed wants to be.
I think that could be not only a good thing, but a fun one too. Tuck that pin behind the dune and there are all sorts of ways to get to the hole both fun and difficult, even lucky. What about getting the ball to achieve some quirky bounce from off the extreme left hillside and letting it die down to the hole? What about using the “ant hill” dune to kick the ball into the back right corner of the green? Considering the distance of the hole, it looks like it would be an excellent option for a high-handicap player against someone of the talent of say, Ben Crenshaw himself! There are millions more on that hole. This is where I think design lends itself to such intriguing options for all, and if the day should ever come that I get to play Friars Head, I could only hope that the pin is cut directly behind the dune--what a fun and challenging shot that would be!
Taking Wales into consideration, lets us look at the much beloved home course of one Charles B. Darwin, known as Aberdovey.
The famed 3rd at Aberdovey is called, “The Cader” and while I have never played it, I can say it is just another golf hole that just intrigues my imagination beyond belief. However, it too, like so many others has been a victim of change, eliminating the strategy, or in this case, “threat” that once existed. It is a perfect example of how certain golf holes should be
preserved. (In Tom Doak terminology.)
The original Cader required a blind shot over a huge, ugly scar-faced dune, and in original photos, the teeing ground look to be nothing more then a small bat-boarded box. There was much to fear as the shot was totally blind, but pretty exciting for those who either felt they masterfully stroked the ball, or just came short of it. You see, if you were short of the dune, you had a horrible daunting task of having to carry over it again, or if you happened to just make it over, one of the deepest nastiest sand pits in all Great Britain, boarded by sleepers, with a huge lip that didn’t allow even the slightest of error. Back then, many writers from Hutchinson to Darwin spoke of the excitement to run-atop the dune and see where your ball rested on the green or, just how harrowing of a predicament they had gotten themselves in.
Even with the ease of today's short iron shots, a grand hazard such as this has to be somewhat of both caution and curiosity!The Cader seemed to be a most menacing presence, sitting there staring you in the face screaming you to challenge it, and unless you were only going to play two holes and walk-in, you had to tackle it. (not to mention in the early stages of the round.)
Looking back from behind the green towards the tee, the deep green-fronting hazard of the Cader is completely out of viewMuch has changed on the course since, a sort of modern-day inspired standards if you will, eliminating the harrowing hazard just over the dune, and in its place two, less then menacing, rounded sand hazards that struggle to even be considered of the “pot” variety. Gone too is that evil lip that grabbed the almost-perfect shot. And it isn’t the only hole of that paticular variety that is gone. At Royal St. George, the “Maiden” was victim to a imperfect routing and was changed at the turn of the century, it too, a formidable foe. The hole and even its teeing ground can supposedly still be seen just shy, and in line of the 5th fairway.
The Maiden From Donald Steel’s Classic Golf Links of Great Britain,
”On the 5th, a small platform on the fairway allows the only sight of the green between two more hills. One of these might just be classified as a foothill of the Maiden, the name given to the famous mountain over which the short hole used to be played. Nowadays, there is a pleasant shot with a full view of the green from a different angle watched over, a mite disapprovingly perhaps, by the Maiden.” Steel later in the book goes on further to say,
”Memories of the game long ago are revived by the 2nd and 3rd. (at Aberdovey) The 3rd, Cader, a blind tee shot. This short hole may not be as frightening as in the days when ‘only a fool or a millionaire took a new ball’ but golf is duller for the absence of such holes and the Cader was a favorite of Darwin’s-as, indeed was the old Maiden at Sandwich.While some of my favorite architects spoke/speak of less blind holes, they also speak/spoke of GREAT variety, and I find that there can be little argument for at least one hole in two or three courses that could emphasize the character of a paticular enviroment which it could be conducive to, that a hole of the "blind" variety couldn’t work out. It just takes a massive landmark or scarred hazard to emphasize the character of the hole, and while of a penal nature, it could be included subjectively in the verse of variety. It could, like all GREAT holes be both criticized and professed for its character, while demanding a respect which can be extolled.