Blind Golf Holes
To See or Not to See
Society has certain disdain for what cannot be seen -- the future, a dark alleyway or a blind golf hole.
A blind golf hole is one on which interference of topographical features such as ridges, hills or mounds prohibit a golfer from determining a proper line of sight to a target on one or more shots. From a golf course design slant, it creates excitement, challenge and mystery.
Contrary to public perception, Pete Dye did not invent blind golf holes to wreak havoc and instill complete disorientation to high-handicappers. Early golf courses, be they of sandy linksland or parkland composition, followed the natural lay of the land. The first golf course architects did not have the advantage of large earthmoving equipment that has become so much a staple of a modern architect's repertoire. Thus, existing ridges and dunes became natural hazards that architects incorporated into their routings to play over, around and through, producing occasional blind occurrences. Golfers accepted this as the "rub of the green" and relied on a sense of feel and an increased concentration to overcome these hazards.
Blind holes also arose though a common theory of late 19th century that water artificially applied to turf was unhealthy to grass. Greens were thought to be better located on sandy soils, which meant it was unwise to locate green sites on high, exposed areas for fear of erosion. Hence, the golf course architect often located greens in hollows where good turf already existed and where rainwater settled. This resulted in punchbowl greens and blind approaches.
As technology changed, so did golf course design, and the blind shot was virtually eliminated from modern courses. But Dye was not ready to sacrifice compelling design characteristics because some golfers believe blind shots are dangerous or unfair. Dye originally agreed that blind holes didn't belong in golf, until he met Tommy Armour. When Dye told the Silver Scot his feelings, Armour responded bluntly, "That shows how much you know about the game of golf"
Armour's opinion, simply stated, is that "A blind hole is only blind if a golfer wants," meaning only once is a golf hole blind, providing a golfer has any ability or recall at all. Armour reasons that blind shots stir up emotions that affect a golfer's game, enhancing the mental aspect.
Dye has since become one of the game's biggest advocates of blind holes. "I simply build blind holes to maintain some diversity," he says. "This is just one more aspect of golf. Most of the land I encounter is quite flat and lifeless, so I've had to create some blind holes, usually short par-4s, requiring a half-wedge approach." Dye likes to utilize design tactics to irritate talented golfers, thereby distracting the golfer from making the lowest possible score.
One common thread to Dye's short, "blind" holes is that there is always one point along the fairway where you can see the complete flagstick. To successfully negotiate the hole, the golfer must find this point. For example, the fifth hole at Long Cove Club on Hilton Head Island, S.C., is only 317 yards long, with quite an ample landing area off the tee. The green is hidden by large mounds and pot bunkers and protected by water to the left. The preferred shot is a daring 7-iron off the tee as close to the water on the left as possible. At that point, the golfer is left with a view to the pine and most of the green 150 yards away.
(On the other hand, in the 1991 USGA Mid-Amateur, Jim Stuart birdied the fifth hole in medal play as well as in the quarterfinals and semifinals en route to winning the championship. His preference off the tee was along-iron to the right, followed by a wedge. Stuart's game-plan was to take the water out of play.)
The master architect of Augusta National, Alister MacKenzie, took strategic golf course golf course design to heights previously unexplored. His aversion toward blind holes is reflective of his expertise in strategic concepts. MacKenzie felt blind holes were unnatural and should rarely be permitted. In a discussion of ideal holes in 1920, MacKenzie stated that blind greens, blind bunkers and blind approaches are not the kinds of difficulties which make for interesting golf. "The greater the experience the writer has of designing golf courses," said MacKenzie, "the more certain he is that blindness of all kinds should be avoided. The only form of blind of blindness that should ever be permitted is the full shot up to a green whose position is accurately located by surrounding sandhills. Even in a hole of this kind, it is not the blindness that is interesting, but the visibility of the surrounding sandhills. At the Maiden Hole at Sandwich (the sixth at England's Royal St. George's), it was the grandeur and the impressiveness of the Maiden that made it a good hole, and not the blindness of the green."
MacKenzie further observed: "There may be a certain amount of pleasurable excitement in running up to the top of a hillock in hopes of seeing your ball near the flag, but this kind of thing gets rather tired as one gets older." An interesting aside is that for all of MacKenzie's professed abhorrence for blind situations, he was enamored with the Old Course at St. Andrews, with its profusion of blind hazards, to say nothing of the occasional blind shot, such as the tee shot at the 17th, the Road Hole.
Dye's need to create diversity on uninspired land is just one reason why today's architect may endorse an occasional blind hole. A golf course routing is a large puzzle, and if one piece is altered, all the pieces around it may be affected. In many cases, an architect must make concessions such as blind shots to overcome this challenge. The occasional blind hole may also provide an architect with the chance to create many excellent shots or holes based on the existing topography. Favoring the inclusion of a blind hole may reduce earthmoving and other construction costs as well as preserve wetlands and other wildlife habitats.
Aside from Dye, though, blind holes are largely a thing of the past. Rees Jones eliminated many such holes at U.S. Open layouts such as Hazeltine National and Congressional Country Club. "Definition helps the golfer conceptualize his or her shot quickly, which in turn improves speed of play as well as safety concerns," says Jones. As a player, though, he fully enjoys the challenge a blind hole offers.
Many blind golf holes have had a great influence on the history of golf. Bobby Jones' tee shot on the 11th at Merion in the 1930 U.S. Amateur was hit to the left off the tee to an area just right of Cobb's Creek, which isn't visible from the tee. The safe shot is to the right of the blind fairway. A high pitch 20 feet from the hole and two putts later, Jones' historic Grand Slam was clinched.
Jack Nicklaus' favorite hole in all of golf is the eighth at Pebble Beach Golf Links. The tee shot is completely blind as one must aim at a far-off chimney. After bogeying this hole on Thursday, Jack made par the rest of the week as he went on to capture the 1972 U.S. Open.
The Olympic Club in San Francisco, site of many U.S. Open upsets, has many greens where the putting surface is completely blind from the approach. One such hole, the short, par-three 15th was certainly kind to Scott Simpson at the 1987 Open. Despite only seeing the top of the flagstick from the tee, he obviously knew his target well, birdieing the hole each day to beat Tom Watson for the Open title by one stroke. Jack Fleck birdied No. 15 in the fourth round of the 1955 U.S. Open, which helped earn him a playoff berth against Ben Hogan, which he won, in one of golf history's most shocking upsets. Unfortunately, the hole produced the opposite for Arnold Palmer. The King bogeyed 15 in a back-nine collapse which gave Billy Casper a victory in the 1966 Open.
Golf course architects must strive to rekindle the elements of mystery and excitement in the game of golf. Fair, creative blind holes can be well designed utilizing proper design principles and honest shot values. Let's Question MacKenzie's contention that blind holes are a novelty which become tiresome with age. Does the pleasure of racing over a hill, hoping to confirm confidence in one's feel and concentration by finding a ball close to the flagstick really lose its luster over time? The challenge of overcoming previous failures, knowing you may succeed the next time always keeps one coming back. Just another fascination of the great game of golf.
Originally published in the 1996 March issue of Links Magazine.
Society has certain disdain for what cannot be seen -- the future, a dark alleyway or a blind golf hole.
A blind golf hole is one on which interference of topographical features such as ridges, hills or mounds prohibit a golfer from determining a proper line of sight to a target on one or more shots. From a golf course design slant, it creates excitement, challenge and mystery.
Contrary to public perception, Pete Dye did not invent blind golf holes to wreak havoc and instill complete disorientation to high-handicappers. Early golf courses, be they of sandy linksland or parkland composition, followed the natural lay of the land. The first golf course architects did not have the advantage of large earthmoving equipment that has become so much a staple of a modern architect's repertoire. Thus, existing ridges and dunes became natural hazards that architects incorporated into their routings to play over, around and through, producing occasional blind occurrences. Golfers accepted this as the "rub of the green" and relied on a sense of feel and an increased concentration to overcome these hazards.
Blind holes also arose though a common theory of late 19th century that water artificially applied to turf was unhealthy to grass. Greens were thought to be better located on sandy soils, which meant it was unwise to locate green sites on high, exposed areas for fear of erosion. Hence, the golf course architect often located greens in hollows where good turf already existed and where rainwater settled. This resulted in punchbowl greens and blind approaches.
As technology changed, so did golf course design, and the blind shot was virtually eliminated from modern courses. But Dye was not ready to sacrifice compelling design characteristics because some golfers believe blind shots are dangerous or unfair. Dye originally agreed that blind holes didn't belong in golf, until he met Tommy Armour. When Dye told the Silver Scot his feelings, Armour responded bluntly, "That shows how much you know about the game of golf"
Armour's opinion, simply stated, is that "A blind hole is only blind if a golfer wants," meaning only once is a golf hole blind, providing a golfer has any ability or recall at all. Armour reasons that blind shots stir up emotions that affect a golfer's game, enhancing the mental aspect.
Dye has since become one of the game's biggest advocates of blind holes. "I simply build blind holes to maintain some diversity," he says. "This is just one more aspect of golf. Most of the land I encounter is quite flat and lifeless, so I've had to create some blind holes, usually short par-4s, requiring a half-wedge approach." Dye likes to utilize design tactics to irritate talented golfers, thereby distracting the golfer from making the lowest possible score.
One common thread to Dye's short, "blind" holes is that there is always one point along the fairway where you can see the complete flagstick. To successfully negotiate the hole, the golfer must find this point. For example, the fifth hole at Long Cove Club on Hilton Head Island, S.C., is only 317 yards long, with quite an ample landing area off the tee. The green is hidden by large mounds and pot bunkers and protected by water to the left. The preferred shot is a daring 7-iron off the tee as close to the water on the left as possible. At that point, the golfer is left with a view to the pine and most of the green 150 yards away.
(On the other hand, in the 1991 USGA Mid-Amateur, Jim Stuart birdied the fifth hole in medal play as well as in the quarterfinals and semifinals en route to winning the championship. His preference off the tee was along-iron to the right, followed by a wedge. Stuart's game-plan was to take the water out of play.)
The master architect of Augusta National, Alister MacKenzie, took strategic golf course golf course design to heights previously unexplored. His aversion toward blind holes is reflective of his expertise in strategic concepts. MacKenzie felt blind holes were unnatural and should rarely be permitted. In a discussion of ideal holes in 1920, MacKenzie stated that blind greens, blind bunkers and blind approaches are not the kinds of difficulties which make for interesting golf. "The greater the experience the writer has of designing golf courses," said MacKenzie, "the more certain he is that blindness of all kinds should be avoided. The only form of blind of blindness that should ever be permitted is the full shot up to a green whose position is accurately located by surrounding sandhills. Even in a hole of this kind, it is not the blindness that is interesting, but the visibility of the surrounding sandhills. At the Maiden Hole at Sandwich (the sixth at England's Royal St. George's), it was the grandeur and the impressiveness of the Maiden that made it a good hole, and not the blindness of the green."
MacKenzie further observed: "There may be a certain amount of pleasurable excitement in running up to the top of a hillock in hopes of seeing your ball near the flag, but this kind of thing gets rather tired as one gets older." An interesting aside is that for all of MacKenzie's professed abhorrence for blind situations, he was enamored with the Old Course at St. Andrews, with its profusion of blind hazards, to say nothing of the occasional blind shot, such as the tee shot at the 17th, the Road Hole.
Dye's need to create diversity on uninspired land is just one reason why today's architect may endorse an occasional blind hole. A golf course routing is a large puzzle, and if one piece is altered, all the pieces around it may be affected. In many cases, an architect must make concessions such as blind shots to overcome this challenge. The occasional blind hole may also provide an architect with the chance to create many excellent shots or holes based on the existing topography. Favoring the inclusion of a blind hole may reduce earthmoving and other construction costs as well as preserve wetlands and other wildlife habitats.
Aside from Dye, though, blind holes are largely a thing of the past. Rees Jones eliminated many such holes at U.S. Open layouts such as Hazeltine National and Congressional Country Club. "Definition helps the golfer conceptualize his or her shot quickly, which in turn improves speed of play as well as safety concerns," says Jones. As a player, though, he fully enjoys the challenge a blind hole offers.
Many blind golf holes have had a great influence on the history of golf. Bobby Jones' tee shot on the 11th at Merion in the 1930 U.S. Amateur was hit to the left off the tee to an area just right of Cobb's Creek, which isn't visible from the tee. The safe shot is to the right of the blind fairway. A high pitch 20 feet from the hole and two putts later, Jones' historic Grand Slam was clinched.
Jack Nicklaus' favorite hole in all of golf is the eighth at Pebble Beach Golf Links. The tee shot is completely blind as one must aim at a far-off chimney. After bogeying this hole on Thursday, Jack made par the rest of the week as he went on to capture the 1972 U.S. Open.
The Olympic Club in San Francisco, site of many U.S. Open upsets, has many greens where the putting surface is completely blind from the approach. One such hole, the short, par-three 15th was certainly kind to Scott Simpson at the 1987 Open. Despite only seeing the top of the flagstick from the tee, he obviously knew his target well, birdieing the hole each day to beat Tom Watson for the Open title by one stroke. Jack Fleck birdied No. 15 in the fourth round of the 1955 U.S. Open, which helped earn him a playoff berth against Ben Hogan, which he won, in one of golf history's most shocking upsets. Unfortunately, the hole produced the opposite for Arnold Palmer. The King bogeyed 15 in a back-nine collapse which gave Billy Casper a victory in the 1966 Open.
Golf course architects must strive to rekindle the elements of mystery and excitement in the game of golf. Fair, creative blind holes can be well designed utilizing proper design principles and honest shot values. Let's Question MacKenzie's contention that blind holes are a novelty which become tiresome with age. Does the pleasure of racing over a hill, hoping to confirm confidence in one's feel and concentration by finding a ball close to the flagstick really lose its luster over time? The challenge of overcoming previous failures, knowing you may succeed the next time always keeps one coming back. Just another fascination of the great game of golf.
Originally published in the 1996 March issue of Links Magazine.
Richard Mandell Golf Architecture
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