Peter,
In my opinion, there are only two courses that I have played in my life that felt like someone, some higher-power was "tilting the board back and forth" so-to-speak. This would be The Old Course of St. Andrews and The National Golf Links of America. I say this because these seemingly described museum pieces, which are still ticking--still don't fail to entertain nor disappoint the very best golfers in the world that can dominate them on length alone. Pine Valley, Merion and Friar's Head are similar for me, they are blessed places. But these other two are ethereal to some extent.
It takes a leap of faith of sorts to play these places because they always seem present you with a shot that your not totally comfortable with, yet are more then excited to give it a shot; give it a try, expense yourself and take your golf to the next level. They make you want to play shots you are not familiar with, yet are willing to try, even if this might be your only visit of this masterful place in your lifetime. I could go on about standing on the 3rd tee of NGLA, trying to decide where exactly I want to hit it. The same can be said on many of the opening front nine holes on the Old Course, where your picking out a branch of whin which to hit at. You see, there is no doubt I can hit at the direction of those marks--making me a better driver of the golf ball then I could ever hope to be. The course is calling for me to hit it here, hit it there and if I miss, I still have some other really cool strategy which to play from. You see, that is what strategy to me is all about. Picking the path you want to take, and carrying that strategy out. These holes defend themselves, almost as if they are throwing the defense at you, but in a fair way? (I hope I'm making sense)
My point in example:One of the holes which Tom Paul and Kyle describe as being the holes which they tend to gravitate to--the 14th, The Narrows, features a good amount of blindness if you are not long off of the tee. You see, this was a very difficult shot for me with a club which I'm not really 100% sure of myself hitting--in my case, a longer iron, which I tend to pull or block shots with. Its a very inconsistent club for me--the longer ones. Well, I'm blind to the hole. I can't see a thing, yet, for some uncanny reason, I'm confident about hitting this club, no different then I am when I have a putter in my hands and I know I'm going to sink a twenty-footer. Its called confidence, and I've got it. Why? Because I'm focused and because this golf course has literally got me laughing at myself.
Now mind you I'm playing golf with a pretty tough competitor in his own right--a former Mid-Am Champion, and he's on higher ground looking at me. I lay into this shot, coming up with some sort of masterful swing which propels the ball off of the club face effortlessly, almost as if it didn't make a sound--THE SWEET SPOT. The ball jets of into blindness over the hill. I look at my partner, the former Mid-Am Champ, and he is looking at my shot, and he and the caddie near him are going, like motioning for the ball to go in. Apparently, not in my view, the ball almost holed out. The only thing I can see is the thoughts and the emotions around me detailing a scene; an event, in this case which I cannot see. It didn't matter if the ball went in or not to me at that point--the golf course just dictated to me an event happening. There was a certain freedom about it, and of course, I hit the flag and it bounded off to the side presenting me with a putt of some 12 feet, compared to being in the hole, which it was close to doing and of course I missed that putt and the one after that. You see, the course caught me with my guard down; caught me losing focus. Caught me with my emotions getting the best of me! I was jello, only it felt great to wiggle all around.
Personally, that's what the National Golf Links of America does for me. the same with the Old Course of St. Andrews.