The majority of golfers are agreed, I think, that an ideal hole should be a difficult one. It is true there are some who would have it difficult for every one except themselves. These, who usually belong to the pot-hunting fraternity, may be left out of consideration. It is the successful negotiation of difficulties, or apparent ones, which gives rise to pleasurable excitement and makes a hole interesting.
What kind of difficulties make interesting golf?
We can, I think, eliminate difficulties consisting of long grass, narrow fairways, and small greens, because of the annoyance and irritation caused by searching for lost balls, the disturbance of the harmony and continuity of the game, the consequent loss of freedom of swing, and the production of bad players.
We can also eliminate blind greens, blind bunkers, and blind approaches. The greater the experience the writer has of designing golf courses, the more certain he is that blindness of all kinds should be avoided. The only form 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, it was the grandeur and the impressiveness of the Maiden that made it a good hole, and not the blindness of the green.
The difficulties that make a hole really interesting are usually those in which a great advantage can be gained in successfully accomplishing heroic carries over hazards of an impressive appearance, or in taking great risks in placing a shot so as to gain a big advantage for the next. Successfully carrying or skirting a bunker of an alarming or impressive appearance is always a source of satisfaction to the golfer, and yet it is hazards of this description which so often give rise to criticism by the unsuccessful player. At first sight he looks upon it as grossly unfair that, of two shots within a few inches of each other, the one should be hopelessly buried in a bunker and the other should be in an ideal position.
However, on further consideration he will realise that, as in dog-legged holes, this is the chief characteristic of all good holes.
The second hole at Headingley—cost £40. Hummock and bunkers entirely artificial: a two-shot dog-legged hole; the photo is taken along the line of the second shot.
Holes of this description not only cater for great judgment, but great skill: a man who has such confidence that he can place his ball within a few feet of his objective gains a big advantage over a faint-hearted opponent who dare not take similar risks. On a course, with holes of this kind, match play becomes of intense interest.