Oooh, Lou! I'm flattered that you are interested in my little ol' opinion on so many varied subjects. I assume the fascination will wane after you read this post. The mystery will be gone . . .
I don't pretend to be an expert, but I'll tell you what I like. Perhaps that will convince you I'm no short Armenian, but a willowy Scott.
I'll take your questions in order, so as not to confuse you.
I haven't seen my favorite course yet, but I can tell you what I have seen that I like and am fond of.
For the pull of the past, there are three courses that hold a place in my heart. I have to love Indian Springs first, if not best, as it was the first course I ever played some 25 years ago. I doubt it would appeal to any of the readers here, but the sagebrush is spectacular. My other favorites in this category include the Ocean Course at Olympic and Pebble Beach of the old days. I hope the ocean is kind to Olympic, and leaves that gem alone for awhile. I hope to have the opportunity to play it often.
In Tahoe, I like Incline Village, and Coyote Point put my knickers in a bit of a twist, as well. The natural style of these courses, the way they blend into their surrounding landscape (which is quite grand and admittedly increases their appeal), and the many surprising holes - where shots over ravines and special hikes up to the black tees (which I didn't play, but did climb up to see) made for memorable golf. There isn't much of the false in either of these courses. I liked the way they lay on the land, although it would've made walking difficult.
I loved every course I saw in Maui. I couldn't help it. My *architectural eye* was overwhelmed by the overall joy of being there . . . I would've been happy to play in a sand box until time to go home. Although I'm not sure I care for that maddening make-your-shot-go-sideways grass . . . which way is West? Next time I promise to be more discerning.
I'm afraid I'm exceeding my bandwidth allotment. Suffice it to say that I have not been to many of the courses I need to see. Books and pictures tell a part of the story . . . enough to make my want list, but not enough to lay claim to any knowledge. My education is incomplete, although I've been fortunate to see more courses than most novices. To date I've seen more courses that I don't like than courses that I do . . . and I haven't seen my favorite yet. I'll be sure to fill you in when I do.
Of course I like my tracks firm and fast.
How else can I hope to keep up with you guys who can blast a tee shot 250 plus? I have to hope the ball will run. That's one of the reasons I want to go to Scotland. I know, petty. When the big guys get up and swing away, only to find their ball skipping and bouncing and jumping the green to bounce off the cart path on the other side, I'll go hunt for the ball, but I'm smiling. I confess to a small competitive streak.
Where do I stand on trees? Although I've seen a few fellows standing on trees trying to hit without taking a drop, I myself try to stay away from them. Fewer trees, please. I hate them in the middle of the fairway, where they serve to limit the options. I hate scraggly half dead trees, be they oak, juniper, or pine. Trees look best in a forest, or on courses that are in a forest. As a generalization, half the courses I've seen would be better with half the trees.
It must be difficult to create water features that work. I like water when it belongs, but it usually doesn't, unfortunately. One of the courses in Hawaii has a large pond - a lake really - next to no. 10. It was just right. I think it was there first, although I don't know that. I'd love a hole built around a real live waterfall on a mountain course, although I've only seen that in my head. While the creeks and miniature ponds in Vegas do give an impression of coolness, which is appreciated, they are for the most part not very appealing visually (although if it's hot enough, I will wade in after balls).
Sadly, I've seen some natural water features recently that were horrible, architecturally speaking. Running water meandered seemingly at random across and along the fairway, diagonally on one, perpendicular on the next, looking not so much like a hazard as an accident.
Because I do everything the Emperor tells me to, I have to say that Fazio is the anti-Christ. But, to tell the truth, I find it extreme to villianize any architect. From what I've seen, their work varies, and is not only theirs, but their teams, and even moreso, the owners. They generally try to do what they are hired to do. I'm pretty sure Mr. Wynn had a very clear picture of what he wanted at Shadow Creek. Fazio was, I imagine, the conduit and a means to the end. Why attack the man for doing his job? I guess that's why he gets the big money.
As I know from my own attempts at creation, if one works at creating something new and original one is bound to eventually make some hideous choices, choices that, though they didn't seem bad at the time, do not hold up well. Isn't that a part of the learning process? Unfortunately, golf courses are much bigger than canvasses, and cannot be tucked away under the bed or painted over - at least not very easily.
I guess I'm just bothered that a few *heads* get all the honor and/or blame, while many *hands* do the work with no recognition at all. In the end, isn't it the artist on the bulldozer that makes the true difference between a bunker with exciting lines that fits the place and one that is nothing but a marring of the land? That, at least, has been my impression at the courses I've visited that were under construction.
I like flat tees. I like irregular greens, with contours that can be used to your advantage, but which will be a disadvantage if not well-used. I like it when the women's tees are placed in such a way as to make the course more playable and interesting . . . not just shorter. I like to walk.
I have no idea why all architects can't get into the ASGCA. If I were going to take a stab, I'd guess politics.
Nematodes might be cute for a pet, but I recently saw a relatively new course that was so riddled it looked like a jigsaw puzzle. But I'm no agronomist; it may have been some sort of fungi.
As to Muirhead, that's a new post. This one is already running way too long, as anyone who wades through it will attest. I will just promise you that one of these days I will start a thread comparing Muirhead to the Mad Composer of the Renaissance. Gesualdo; a prince who killed his wife and uncle in a fit of passion and who went on to write music so innovative his peers thought him mad. It is now considered difficult, but many find it incredibly haunting and beautiful.
Lou, don't ask if you don't want to know. I will answer any question you put before me, to the best of my meager ability. If it is clear to all that I am indeed what I claim to be, and the quiz is over, may I be excused?
I have some reading to catch up on . . . Back to the boards.
I reserve my right to exercise every woman's prerogative. I may change my mind about anything at any time.
