I was very fortunate to play Riviera with a very prominent member (Norm K) and two very well-known people in the golf industry (both were scratch or better at the time). Norm talked about the course in very intimate detail and what made the design work over the forty (?) years he had been a member. The group talked a lot about the greens, the bunkers, angles and how they impact play. It was a special day for me.
About six year later I went back and walked Riviera during practice rounds (event was very accommodating to architects) with multiple groups “inside the ropes”. Players encouraged me to share what I saw and explained what I wanted to know.
At that point, there were six greens expanded by the Fazio Group. One of the reasons I was able to know exactly what had been done was Mike Weir’s Caddy (Brenden Little) had the old green book for when Mike won and a new green book with him. When I mentioned a change on the 3rd green, we spent the rest of the day going through each change.
I was left sad by the whole experience. Yes, there were new “tucked” pins, often on the opposite side of the original tucked corners, but the expansions often removed the impact of the angles on the approach because they had enough room to come in from the less favorable side.
I got a chance to ask Tom the question, “Do you think everything can be improved?” It was actually in reference to Augusta National and changes on the 5th green, but it applied here too. He said everything can be improved. It’s not how I feel.
My take-away is what makes a great piece of architecture is the equivalent of a Jenga stack. Most of it is obvious, because you can analyze what makes a hole or green using the known principles of golf architecture. But my personal take-away is often there is something on the best in architecture that makes a deeper connection and can’t be as easily explained.
It can be perfect tie-ins, something in the background that repeats in the contours, a sense of place, an unexpected choice in location, an exaggerated flourish in form, a slope only nature can create, whatever that magical quality is forms a bond.
My issue with playing with greatness is its like playing Jenga, you might easily remove the initial pieces because they are easy to identify. But if you remove too much, it comes apart. If you remove the magic that makes something singular, you’ve undone what makes the place, the hole or the green special.
Once an architects done that, they can never put the original composition back because they have no fucking clue what it was. So that’s why you don’t fuck with greatness.