Thanks for the mention, Ben--and it definitely speaks to this topic. What we talked about that day was the context in which the 11th at Yale appears. Studied in a vacuum, it's a decent golf hole, or something less than great. But I think its quality is amplified by its relationship to its neighbors. 8-10 at Yale is as challenging and dramatic a three-hole stretch as you'll find anywhere. And 10, which absolutely means to kick your teeth in, is also a physically demanding hole (let's assume we're carrying the bag here), with two serious hill climbs. Many golfers arrive on the 11th tee with their scorecard bruised and maybe feeling a bit of an energy drain, too. They are then presented with an attractive, downhill, easy-looking par-four. A simple drive-and-pitch. It feels like a hole where we should make par--no, need to make par. Of course, that's the danger. A pressing bogey on 11 feels like such an abject failure. By the same token, a neat little birdie or par can help the player get rolling again on the tough holes to come.
I realize what I'm talking about is as much psychology as it is nuts-and-bolts architecture, but great courses have that mental dimension, too. I always find the 11th to be an interesting little turning point in a round at Yale because it's kind of a sanity check after you've been through the crucible. Is it a great hole in the traditional sense? Maybe not, but it's (literally) one of the best "breather holes" I know of and certainly adds something valuable to the course as a whole.