Somewhere along the line my love of the game changed. I grew up on military courses. They were fine but lacked "architectural quality." I didn’t care, in fact I didn’t know that they weren’t all that good. I just loved to hit a golf ball and compete with the other kids. The feel of balata on persimmon was ethereal. Hitting the sweet spot on my Haig Ultras was like hitting a baseball in the middle of the bat. In my young adult life, I joined clubs that were affordable. I judged their quality by the condition of the course. As I got older, I was able to join and play better courses designed by some of our best architects. I live in a little golf/ski resort. We built our home here as a get-away. When I retired we moved here full-time. It has a mediocre course. When we first built here in 1985, I loved the course. Now not so much. In fact, last year I played it only twice. Somehow, I began to play “golf course.” If the course does not have “architectural merit” I don’t have much fun. I have two young friends that are members at Portmarnock. They told me that if they belonged somewhere else, they probably would never play. Now they play three or four times a week. I get it.
My goal for this year, after I heal from my foot surgery, is to love the course where I live, enjoy playing with 20 handicapper old men, and walk my five-hole loop in the evening. I want to play just for the joy of it.