“But when the laws of the medium, the surface of the earth, are made light of, from which alone true architecture can spring, its body becomes diseased and becomes subject to the inroads of parasitic ideas. Sand is now being used not solely for the purpose of a hazard, but as a species of lighthouse to guide the player in estimating distance. Thus a crutch is thrown into the landscape upon which the eve (sic) of the golfer may lean, and the hazard of indeterminate space is to that extent mitigated. And greens are now being purposely tilted towards play, and enfeebled skill rejoices. The upshot of such an unsubstantial philosophy of golf must be to reveal every feature of nature, and, with nature rubbed of its mystery, golf must degenerate to a battue, as have certain other sports, such as shooting, where birds and animals are driven down the muzzles of the guns. And thus true golf, an heroic and adventuresome pastime of the spirit, must become a mongrel, a cross between a sport and a game.
And this abortive philosophy of golf would seem to be sustained by the stricture of the peripatetic golfer, “All hidden architecture is bad.” Should the golfer, in all cases, become aware of what his fate is? Is golf to be robbed of all illusion? Is the walk between shots to be, only, either a tragic or dull affair? Does not the very essence of a sport lie in that suspense between the commencement of an action and the knowledge of its result? Is it not this suspense that in hunting, shooting, fishing, and in all sports, sublimates the mind and heart into a region of no knowledge, a region where, for a moment, we are permitted to dream impossible things and become heroes? In games we satisfy the demands of our bodies and the quick objective use of our senses, but in sports it’s the nourishment of the imagination that makes them so lovable. In a game we are face to face with a duplicate of ourselves; but, in a sport, we stand before the great unknown, wooing her with the virtue of our skill, honing to be enfolded within her arms, but never sure that in the end we will find ourselves outcast. Surely the maid of our heart should not reveal all her charms to us at once.”
"Art in Golf Architecture", May 16, 1925