Developers Gonna Develop: So, Let us Not Sneeze at Golf’s Flexible Utility

This story in The New York Times, published mid-February 2024, struck a chord. Not because I’m a golfer, but because I’ve written so very much about abandoned golf courses, the re-wilding of courses, even the resuscitation of courses gone fallow. I’ve done so and continue to do so — under my own byline, on behalf of clients around the world — because every course development ultimately speaks to the ecological stewardship that property will undertake. As long ago as 1994, the NYT even saw fit to quote me on the subject of how many golf courses is enough, and how many legitimately eco-friendly credentials an operative golf course can claim. These issues will never go away.

This recent Times piece proved a solid piece of reporting, and the comments section was chock full of even more examples of layouts that have been returned, in full and in part, to open space. In each case, everyone appreciated the fact that here was a gorgeous piece land where the public could now hike, walk their dogs, bird-watch, etc.

In a U.S. golf economy where 150 courses were shuttered annually — a culling endured every year from 2008 to 2021 — what to do with former course properties proved a fairly pressing issue. Yet that market correction appears got have stabilized. There were approximately 90 golf course closures in the United States in 2023 (as measured in 18-hole equivalents), according to the National Golf Foundation. There were also more new course openings in 2023 than at any time since 2010: fully 18-HEQ.

For a variety of reasons, the golf establishment anywhere on Earth will always be expected argue for just how sustainable golf courses should be, as golf courses, and how many of them (and what sort of facilities) we really need, full stop. But it’s important to think about these issues in two different ways:

First, the issue actually hinges in critical respects on access. The real problem, in America especially, is that private clubs here are so very private. The idea that non-members in a particular community might use a private golf course property as open space is pretty much anathema. Whereas, in the U.K. and Australia, and across Europe, it’s common place. There, even the most private clubs often double as places where non-members can play golf (for a fee) — but also walk their dogs, cross-country ski, even hike. More important, this ethos trickles down to all courses, where golfers treat the property as a playground, while an even larger population of non-golfing locals treat them as quasi-public spaces.

We don’t do that here in the United States. It’s no commonly done in Asian markets either. It’s no coincidence that private clubs on both continents are very exclusive in comparison — and this attitude trickles down, too. One doesn’t see walking paths for non golfers (and their dogs) even at public and municipal courses in the U.S. Why not? This is something the golf course industry can and should work to address. Why not build community walking and biking trails through public courses, which account for some 90 percent of the course facilities in America? Read all those comments on the Feb. 2024 NYT story above: Folks just want to walk these properties with their dogs, maybe hike a bit or ride their bikes on these decommissioned course properties.

If this is what the community seeks, and these activities can be enjoyed inside and beside operative golf courses, why not accommodate them and be a better neighbor? Who knows, you might sell more food & drink in your grille room, or find new customers for your banquet facility.

Second, it’s critical that golfers and non-golfer alike recognize that courses offer a level of flexibility that other development categories do not. As February’s NYT story illustrates, even golf courses that viably served a golf population for decades can pivot to other public services relatively quickly and easily. I’m not sure that I agree with the subhead above: that most courses are in some way “paved over”. Many of the golf courses closed down the last 20 years were decommissioned to make room for housing stock, something desperately needed in this country. If that’s what we mean by “paving,” that’s another outcome I can live with. Yet here again, not all developments allow for such repurposing, not with such relative ease.

“Courses will always offer non-golfers that flexibility,” architect Jason Straka told me in the re-wilding story linked above. “Here’s what I mean by that: In China, where we’ve worked quite a bit, we’ve told people that in times of dire need, you cannot take a shopping mall and easily convert it back into productive farm fields, for example. With a golf course, you can.”

The China example is complicated: President Xi Jinping famously halted all new courses development, beginning in 2013, not because the courses proved environmentally questionable. Or because they soaked up limited open/public space. But rather because he and his regime have found it politically useful to single out golf as the preferred pastime of corrupt, bourgeois class traitors. Yet Straka’s point remains: During the Chinese course-building boom (1995-2013), many Chinese developers built golf courses as a means to merely control a piece of property, in the longer term, until such time that another higher, better use came along. There is no privately held property in the People’s Republic of China, per se. But if you want to build a golf club and employ hundreds of locals, the local government is happy to have you use and “hold” the property until such time that the developer, or maybe the local government, or maybe even the Central Government, identifies a better way to deploy that land.

Yet, even these scenarios further illustrate the point above. Allow me the rare opportunity to quote the Times quoting me, from 1994, on the matter of golf’s flexibility and relative, long-term environmental impact:

“Because golf is seen as a rich white man’s sport, it’s an easy target for environmentalists,” said Hal Phillips, editor of Golf Course News Asia-Pacific, an industry journal. “At least with golf it’s open space that’s being developed. Would you rather have a golf course or a strip mall? A golf club or a 400-room hotel? If you want to compare the environmental impact, it’s really no contest.”

In sum, new golf course development and course-conversions of all stripes should be viewed in similar light. Because yes: We built a few too many golf courses here in America from 1990 to 2008. Supply exceeded demand, and all these closures have since corrected that imbalance. But aren’t you glad that — back in 1955 or 2005 — it was a golf course that got built in your town? And not some Walmart distribution center? Or maybe a massive shopping mall that sits dormant and cannot be repurposed today? Good luck converting those monstrosities into operative green space today, or 2055. 

Go West, Young Man!

The fine folk at Global Golf Post saw fit to publish this column of mine in June 2023, when the PGA Tour’s partnership/merger with the Saudi Public Investment Fund took everyone by surprise. It remains highly relevant, and will for some time. Find the published version here … HP, MM

News of the PGA Tour/LIV merger may feel as though it broke, or was brokered, very much out of the blue. But the power, money and tastes driving golf’s evolution have continually migrated westward. The emerging primacy of Saudi influence, as of Tuesday night, May 6, is merely the next link in a recurringly fascinating, often jarring historical chain.

In 1880, for example, it would have seemed absurd and laughable to Victorian Brits that their game would, in just 40 years’ time, grow to be so dominated by America, Americans, their wealth and their so obviously colonial tastes. But that’s exactly what happened, and while this dynamic first applied to tournament play — all but one of golf’s major championships were developed and eventually hosted here — it was quickly extended to formats of play (medal, not match), course design (parkland, not links) and ball size, among other things. 

Starting in the 1990s, the money and predilections that fuel golf’s ceaseless evolution began to veer still further west, from North America to Asia. Another 20 years from now, it’s entirely possible, even plausible, that the game’s center of gravity will shift accordingly, as it once shifted from the U.K. to the U.S. This merger of the Saudi Public Investment Fund (PIF) and PGA Tour is only the latest evidence of Asia’s rise. The women’s game, it could be argued, is already centered in East Asia — home to most of the game’s finest competitors, its most lucrative corporate sponsorships, and tournament purses.

Had someone advanced this eventual state of affairs to American golf observers in 1980, they too would have considered it laughable and absurd.

Indeed, if someone had suggested it Monday, May 5, 2023, the scenario would been dismissed as both fanciful and heretical. But here we are, poised at the precipice of another massive shift to the West.

There remains a sizeable cautionary twist for all of us to consider, here in North America at least. British, then American, then Asian hegemonies — in the golfing context — were all fueled, at first, by the champion golfers they produced, then by the sheer number of casual-and-largely-well-heeled golfers who played the game. They bought equipment, read the golf magazines and websites, then traveled the region/world playing the game. Eventually corporate decision-makers recognized televised tournament golf specifically as a means to reach these wealthy consumers. 

Neither Saudi culture specifically, nor the Arab world writ larger, has yet produced these dominant players, nor any trace of any sizeable golfing zeitgeist. Anywhere. Their influence in the sport has proved almost exclusively bought and paid for. What’s more, it would take no more than the wave of Mohammed bin Salman’s hand, or the drawing of his final breath, to wipe it all away — all the golf ventures, his country’s courtship of international soccer stars and events, its substantial Formula 1 investments, etc.

Our collective shock this week is largely the result of our sudden realization that great change is upon us. Even if we recognize the broader historical perspective, golf’s latest westward expansion can’t help but engender further uncertainty. If that precarity doesn’t give us pause — if it doesn’t give pause to advertisers and investors in this new combined venture — it should. 

Dress Code Switch: Golf’s Unlikely Embrace of the Hoodie

Nearly five months post Ryder Cup, I’m still waiting on broad public acknowledgement of the striking sea change we witnessed at Whistling Straits. No, not the fourth U.S. victory since 1993. I’m talking about the addition of hoodies to the official American team kit.

The advent of this landmark bit or golf couture was in fact noted on both sides of the pond, but mainly as a means to tell readers where they might order their own commemorative hoodies. This, too, is a pretty telling development: The idea that golf’s famously staid, hidebound fan base might consider wearing something so fashion forward flies in the face of history, short and long term.

Could it be that golf is actually changing with the times?

Let’s review: What golfers tend to wear has been the butt of jokes and snide commentary for more than a century. The game’s inherent conservatism was initially the source of such derision. How else to explain the extraordinary staying power of kilties? Cultural pushback focused not merely on the tweed, the coats and ties in clubhouses, but the perceived exclusivity that spawned these fashion dictates.

More recently, the game was taken to task for a slew of obvious fashion don’ts: white belts, for example — something that emerged during the 1970s, when the spirit of Greg Brady was loose in the land. Sadly, this fad has made a comeback of late. Traditionally, golf cannot help itself in this regard. Despite its “best efforts”, it seemed golf would never shake its reputation an activity for old white guys in bad pants.

I’ve been in the golf business since 1992, and one of the first things I noticed was the game’s preoccupation with dispelling not just adverse couture tropes, but others: Golf’s inability to effectively welcome new players, for example. This was code for the game’s inability to attract female and minority players — a problem for a sport that wanted to grow, and yet another vestige of golf’s conservative and exclusive history.

The problem was, most of the new player development programs — and there have been dozens trotted out over the last 30 years — were exercises in lip service. Golf wanted to sound progressive and inclusive. But when push came to shove, the establishment was happy to welcome women, minorities and juniors into the game so long as they wore collared shirts and no one was obliged to play behind them.

Enter COVID-19, which has scrambled the assumptions of institutions far bigger and more ensconced that golf. As it happened, the pandemic resulted in a wholly unexpected boom in golf participation. Just one problem: A lot of these new players, attracted by the outdoor exercise, didn’t know how to play the game exactly. They certainly didn’t know what to wear either. Or rather, they didn’t care so much what they wore. These new converts showed up in sneakers, gym shorts and hoodies — and pearls were clutched across golfdom at the mere thought of such a transgression.

Twenty-twenty proved a watershed moment for golf apparel. A pretty quiet watershed, it must be said. When a hoodie-clad Tyrell Hatton won the European Tour’s flagship BMW Championship that fall, folks took some notice. The powers that be at Wearside GC in Sunderland, UK tweeted: In light of Tyrell Hatton’s recent success and fashion statement and following discussions on this, can I draw your attention to the Clubs [sic] dress code and re emphasise that “hoodies” are not acceptable golf attire for Wearside Golf Club, no more so in fact than designer ripped jeans… Orthodox till they die up there in Northumberland, apparently.

Since that moment, however, the tide has turned. U.S. PGA Tour player Kevin Kisner was spotted wearing a hoodie in June 2021. Then the Ryder Cup was conducted, a year late, on the shores of Lake Michigan: If pervasive silence is any indication, this particular fashion statement has been completely normalized.

White America’s ability to absorb and appropriate formerly transgressive bits of culture knows no bounds apparently. As recently as 2013, the hoodie worn by young Trayvon Martin pegged him as a thug and resulted in his shooting death. Now Justin Thomas is wearing on, as part of official Ryder Cup team attire, and no one bats an eye!

One wonders whether such precipitous change would have been possible without COVID-19, the broader effects of which continue to show themselves inside and outside of golf. Were you aware Seattle-based rapper Benjamin Hammond Haggerty, known by his stage name Macklemore, has launched his own golf apparel line? He fell in love with golf during COVID, apparently, and claims an 11 handicap. His new venture, Bogey Boys, does not appear to include any hoodies, just a bunch of bowling shirts and retro designs that seem ironically garish. Nevertheless, it would appear the pandemic didn’t just reinvigorate golfer participation in the U.S. It had rendered the game a notch or two more cool.

In researching a story for Golf Course Management magazine this past summer, I chatted with an Oklahoma public course operator who saw this change happening first hand, in real time. He noted that hoodies had been THE lightening-rod issue stemming from the COVID-occasioned participation bump. 

“All these things we used to take as religious convictions are now being questioned,” Jeff Wagner told me. “Like music on the golf course and the appearance of all these hoodies. Now that has ruffled some features. That’s new, but the sentiment isn’t. I saw a guy cry once because he was so offended that someone wore jeans in his clubhouse.

“I really hope that, post COVID, we’re acknowledging that adhering to snobby traditionalism comes with a cost, especially in public golf. I’m 40 years old, a tail-end Millennial, and I think these points of concern transcend the caliber of your club. On the spectrum of industries that stand to benefit from the redefining of things, golf is top of the list. If we really want to grow the game, this sort of adaptation is part of it.”

I don’t own a proper hoodie, but I have been known to keep a red, hooded, rain-proof pullover in my golf bag. A stiff wind, I’ve found, frankly wreaks havoc with any sort of hooded golf attire. It’s a pain in the ass standing over putts with that thing flapping around back there. I had assumed this was the price I paid to keep dry. Now I realize that all along I’d been answering the musical question, “What price fashion?”

Ascendant Sand & Scrub Movement Meets Curious Headwinds in Asia

There are two kinds of people in this world: those whose tastes in golf courses hew to The St. Andrews Ideal, and those whose preferences gravitate toward The Augusta National Ideal. 

Courses built and maintained according to the St. Andrews paragon we identify generically as “links”: natural and treeless, firm and fast, lightly kempt and several shades of brown. The Augusta model has come to represent an opposing pole, and these so-called “parkland” designs do exude a different vibe altogether: lush and soft, multiple shade of green, landscaped and manicured to a fare thee well. 

History, culture and geography have traditionally funneled Asian golfers into the parkland camp, a classification that may strike one as trivial, or arbitrary. But Asian predispositions in this regard are robust and stand to shape global golf trends for decades to come — even as contemporary tastemakers exalt the links model (and sneer at the parkland genre) as never before.  

For centuries, even this binary choice did not exist. Links courses — named for the sandy terrain that connects beach to more arable land — were the only game in town, and that town was St. Andrews. The Home of Golf will never change, but after several hundred years as a purely Scottish pursuit, golf began to migrate. First the game moved south, to England. During the mid-19th century it moved inland, where the parkland style was devised. 

Late in the 19th century, golf and its attendant tastes traveled West, across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States, where the parkland style took firm hold and thrived as never before — fueled by American cultural influence, its economic sway, the opening of Augusta National Golf Club in 1934, and the advent of course irrigation. This shift toward the parkland ideal and away from the British links ideal happened far more quickly and comprehensively than anyone could have imagined. In 1880, for example, it would have seemed laughable to Brits that their game would, in just 50 years, be so dominated by America, Americans and their tastes in course design. But that’s exactly what happened. What’s more, during the ensuing century, the game arrived in Asia where the parkland style also came to predominate. 

In the mid-1990s, the stylistic pendulum swung back. The American course zeitgeist underwent a major shift, whereby The St. Andrews Ideal gained extraordinary new steam, while The Augusta National Model declined. Why? Resorts like Bandon, developed on a remote stretch of Oregon coast, proved links golf was popular enough with Americans to be profitable. Projects like Sand Hills — located in even more remote western Nebraska — showed that oceans and shorelines were incidental to the genre’s appeal. Anywhere there was sand, developers learned, compelling links golf could be devised. The more isolated the links course, the more golfers seemed determined to travel there. 

Today, where sand does not dominate the existing soil profile, developers import it and “cap” the entire 18-hole footprint, ensuring both efficacious drainage and links-enabling bounce & roll. At venerable Pinehurst No. 2, turf once dominated the landscape wall to wall. In 2011, prior to a U.S. Open held there, architects peeled back all but the fairway turf to reveal a sea of native, sandy scrub. Acolytes of the St. Andrews model swooned. 

Golf in the 21st century remains markedly U.S.-centric, but the game’s momentum continues to move West. Today, Asia-Pacific is the region where course development, player development, tournament interest and prize money/corporate support are growing most rapidly. True to golf’s migration patterns, the resurgent St. Andrews Model has been newly deployed all over Asia — along the coast of Vietnam, on islands in the Yangtze River, atop dead-flat properties in Greater Bangkok. 

There’s just one problem: Asians don’t much like links golf. 

[read more here]

It's the Charisma, Stupid: Tiger Crosses Back Over

So my wife and I have a 12-year-old girl staying with us for a while and last Thursday evening she settled down beside me (armed with a big bag of magic markers and a sketch pad) as I watched a recording of The Masters first round. She wasn’t paying much attention. In that way she was a credible stand-in for the broader American public, which, let’s face it, doesn’t pay much attention to golf, even its majors. Indeed, when she did take notice, she playfully mocked the idea of watching golf altogether — that is, until she noticed Tiger Woods walking off a tee.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

That’s Tiger Woods, I told her. I swear to god, I did not prep her in any way; she picked him out of the crowd of players all on her own. The next afternoon, during the live broadcast of Round 2, she wandered back into the living room. Unbidden she asked, “How’s Tiger doing?”

He’s doing quite well, actually. You like him?

“Yeah.”

Why?

“He’s handsome.”

What else do you like about him?

“He’s cool. Look at the way he’s walking around. He’s very confident.”

What about that mock turtleneck? Is that cool?

“Oh yeah. Those are in.”

Watching golf with a 12-year-old, distaff, golfing neophyte is a fascinating exercise in its own right. This one in particular had strong opinions: She thought Jon Rahm looked like a fat punk; she didn’t like him at all and rode him without mercy throughout (“He should just go home”). She quickly remarked on the unusually lanky stature of both Tony Finau and Matt Kucher. Brooks Koepka was notably swaggy — but nothing like Tiger, in her opinion. Surprisingly, Ricky Fowler’s youthful mien did nothing for her — something about his eyebrows being too dark (“And I don’t like his shirt”). Norwegian amateur Victor Hovland was pilloried for his prominent schnozz, which, in fairness, was fair comment.

But these were all bit players in the drama so far as she was concerned. Tiger was the anointed one.

A lot has already been written about how Tiger’s victory on Sunday has introduced his phenomenon to an entirely new generation of golfers. I don’t anticipate this girl will suddenly want to play the game, or start wearing mock T’s. But it has been 11 years since Tiger won a major. This weekend’s performance reminded us all of what we’ve been missing.

Forget the 15 majors, the renewed Nicklaus chase. We’ve missed this man’s naked charisma most of all. No golfer in history has half the presence Tiger exhibits just walking down a fairway. Charisma is a hard thing to quantify, but it’s also one of the few things that readily spills over from a niche sport like golf into the larger culture. And that’s another thing golf has been missing these past 11 years.

I watched Sunday morning’s finale at Tomaso’s, a fashionably down-market, diner-sized canteen in Portland, Maine. At 10:30 a.m., when I showed up, there weren’t but 3 or 4 us there. An hour later, the brunch crowd had attracted a full house of young, bearded, IPA-swilling hipsters This was no sports bar, much less a golf bar (does such a thing even exist north of Pinehurst?). Even so, when Tiger birdied 15, the place went crazy. The barman quickly turned off the music (a pleasant alt-country playlist featuring the likes of Ryan Adams, Old Crow Medicine Show and Jason Isbell) and turned up the CBS television feed. Tiger had this place in the palm of his hand. When his tee shot on 16 came to rest 2 feet from the hole, the patrons inside Tomaso’s erupted.

About this time, I noticed a text had arrived. A friend of mine was down in Boston at the TD Garden watching the Celtics-Pacers playoff game, an inelegant affair he referred to as a “game/rock fight.” He reported there were “tons of people clustering around TVs on the concourse watching golf. It’s amazing how much love there is for Tiger.”

There’s really is something about this guy — something non-golfers can appreciate. Yes, he has battled back from considerable personal/physical adversity, but this obscures the larger point: He was stupidly charismatic when he appeared on the Mike Douglas Show at the age of 2, when he won three straight U.S. Amateurs, when he debuted as Nike’s cross-over pitch man, when he claimed those 14 majors… Apparently, after a decade away, he remains stupidly charismatic, not just to core golfers but to casual fans and mere onlookers around the world.

Sunday night, my daughter sent me a text: “Is Tiger Woods good again?”

She’s 20 years old, a junior in college, and couldn’t care less about golf. But somehow the news had reached her via the broader cultural news drip. I asked exactly how she learned of his Masters victory.

“I saw him on the TV at this bar! Some people were watching.”

Do you find him charismatic?

“Not really. He’s cheated on a lot of women.”

My daughter is clearly not so forgiving of Tiger, in part because she’s a woke young woman, but also because she’s yet to make the mistakes that Tiger and the rest of us 40, 50 and 60somethings have made. But her admonition is well taken: Recognizing and appreciating anew Tiger’s ungodly magnetism doesn’t mean we should get all crazy (again) about what his charisma really means.

It doesn’t mean, for example, that we should start believing Tiger’s mere presence will bring millions of kids (or Millennials, or Baby Boomers) into the game. That never held in 2003; it doesn’t hold now. Nor does it mean we should start building new golf courses willy nilly to accommodate this chimerical wave of converts. It doesn’t mean Tiger has, on account of his victory, instantly become a particularly good man or father. It made no sense to ascribe him these qualities in 2007 frankly; knowing what we know, it makes even less sense now. Why we blithely attach these sterling personal traits to men (or women) who exhibit extraordinary sporting skill is beyond me. One hopes we’ve learned our lesson here.

But it does seem clear that Tiger and the professional game in which he competes have changed more than a little in the 11 years since he limped to his last major win. Today’s Tiger is 43 years old, his hairline in full retreat. He’s been through a world of shit, both physical and personal. The process of dealing and coming back from all that would change anyone. His swing and his outlook on life are forever altered.

And here we confront what might be the most interesting manifestation of all this change: Sunday’s victory was the first time Tiger has ever come from behind in the final round to win a major tournament. The greatest front-runner in history has learned how to come back.

Tiger won from the front so frequently because, from 1997 through 2008, his outsized aura truly cowed most all of his would-be competitors. Remember how they’d wilt when paired with him? Francesco Molinari and Tony Finau did not play well beside Tiger on Sunday but here, too, the game has changed a great deal in 11 years. Today’s PGA Tour is stocked to the gills with young, dynamic, swaggering talent. It will be fascinating to watch this generation of professionals compete with the man many of them grew up idolizing.

Because one thing has not changed: You can’t take your eyes off this Tiger Woods fellow. This was true over the weekend; it was true through 2008. If we’re honest with ourselves, it was true afterward, through his many struggles. We rather shamelessly rubbernecked the wounded, struggling Tiger like we ogle an accident on the side of the road. More than a decade has passed and we still can’t take our eyes off him. Why? Because he still has more charisma than anyone who has ever played this game, more perhaps than all the major winners in history, combined. Even a 12-year-old, non-golfing girl can see that.

Take it from someone who was there: Few foresaw today's booming VN golf market

That Ho Chi Minh would have much preferred American/capitalist backing to Soviet/communist backing may come as some surprise to many Westerners. But the record’s pretty clear. A year after delivering his famous speech from Saigon’s Opera House steps — declaring independence from French colonial rule (and borrowing liberally and deliberately from the U.S. Declaration of Independence) — Ho’s 1946 letter to President Harry Truman, appealing to the U.S. for support in throwing off the yoke of French occupation, is not so famous. But it should be. Truman’s decision not to acknowledge its receipt had serious consequences. The U.S. backed a colonial power over an indigenous people, Ho turned sharply left out of necessity, and the rest is history.

It’s a stretch to look for any such historical symbolism in the naming of Decision 1946, the golf course development guidelines issued by the Vietnamese Government back in 2009. The status of golf development in Vietnam had been queered somewhat up to that point, mainly by lingering land-use, environmental and economic issues that were punctuated and inflamed by an October 2009 story in The New York Times that furthered a whole host of unsubstantiated rumors and flat-out misinformation.

But Decision 1946 is looking pretty good today. It wiped away all the ambiguity. It made clear the obligations every course developer must meet going forward. Eight years ago, when it was issued, it seemed rather pie in the sky frankly. At that time, there were perhaps 20 courses operating in the country. Decision 1946 didn’t just lay out development guidelines; it forecast and capped the number of golf courses to be built in Vietnam at 88. It also detailed where they should be built.

At the time, we close observers of the VN golf scene (by that time, Mandarin Media had created the Ho Chi Minh Golf Trail, a marketing cooperative that included a dozen of the country’s best tracks) rolled our eyes just a bit. There’s some pie in the sky, we said to ourselves. Who is ever going to build that many courses here?

Well, plenty of folks, apparently. According to tour operator Golf Asian, there are 35 courses now operating in country with some 65 (not a typo) in various stages of development. Vietnam has some serious transportation/infrastructure issues still to overcome and carting golfing tourists around more efficiently is unlikely to be a priority. Like all emerging golf nations, it has struggled to build a native playing population on the order of Thailand’s. But in terms of developing of new courses, it is the hottest market in Asia, perhaps the world.

Which brings me to the photo that leads this blog item. Back in the early 1990s, I was editor-in-chief at Golf Course News, a business journal that covered the golf course industry in North America. In 1993, we launched Golf Course News Asia-Pacific and supported it with many a trip to the now-defunct, Singapore-based trade show, Golf Asia. In 1996, on the way home from Singapore, I made my first visit to Vietnam and played Nick Faldo’s design at Ocean Dunes in coastal Phan Thiet, near Mui Ne. The course was so new the cups had not yet been cut. Superintendent Chris Gray was my host; I crashed at his place after we played the golf course and went to dinner at some fabulous local seafood place. Chris would go on to grow-in dozens of golf course projects across Asia for IMG. Today’s he’s international sales & marketing manager at Rain Bird. Chris has done pretty darned well for himself in the golf business. So, it seems, has Vietnam.

Spanish avant-garde cinema informs modern travel hell

Some 30 years ago, as part of a film series at college, I saw this great Louis Brunuel movie called The Exterminating Angel. Well, it wasn’t exactly “great”, now that I think back on it, but it was surreal enough to have made a lasting impression. In it some 12 to 15 members of Franco’s upper crust gather in a stylish Castilian villa. The first 40 minutes or so depict these men and women seated around a well appointed table, exchanging witty repartee on various arcane topics. The movie basically goes nowhere during these early stages and I remember thinking — sitting there in the same lecture hall where I endured Psych 101 — that here was yet another obtuse, hyper-intellectual, dialectical drama of the mind that explores, in excruciating detail (and in Spanish), Iberian class struggles circa 1962. Sorta like My Dinner with Andre meets The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.

Just about the time my roommates and I were getting restless, wondering what better things we might be doing with our youth, the guests do a funny thing: Instead of going home, they all crash in the music room. Next morning, a military character calls attention to himself with great ceremony and indicates that, sadly, he must take his leave. But his friends won’t have it; they talk him out of it… Before long a couple stands up and makes a gracious but unmistakable move to depart. When the group protests, the two look at each other and decide to stay… More high-blown conversation ensues before another fellow excuses himself, thanks his hosts, dons his coat and gets as far as the door jam. Those assembled seem prepared to let the man go, but for reasons he himself doesn’t seem to understand, he turns around and resignedly re-takes his place on the couch.

It becomes clear that no one, for reasons they’re unable to articulate or comprehend, can leave the room.

Eventually the situation becomes dire. Even the servants have fled the premises for reasons they themselves cannot explain. Yet the guests are trapped, by what they don’t know. Hours pass. The police show up outside and attempt to coax them out with bull-horned pleas and instructions. Nothing works. It’s become an existential hostage situation and eventually the guests eat all the leftovers and dicker themselves into a state of desperate exhaustion. Days pass, farm animals materialize in house (!), and one by one the guests collapse from a lack of food and water.

I can’t remember how the movie ends but I’ve got several trips planned for the next six month. Here’s hoping that life doesn’t mimic art exactly.

Like Brunuel’s dinner guests, we’ve all of us found ourselves stuck inside the some airport’s secure gate area, the bewildered prisoners of grim circumstances beyond our comprehension. Over and over again we try to leave, but for a variety of reasons — some practical, some damned surreal, all of them out of our control — we cannot.

Hour upon hour of travel impotence inevitably leads to contemplation, some of it damned existential. Surely Brunuel must have been an experienced air traveler. I looked into it, and found this telling quote re. The Exterminating Angel: “Basically,” the filmmaker explained, “I simply see a group of people who couldn’t do what they want to… That kind of dilemma, the impossibility of satisfying a simple desire, often occurs in my movies. From the standpoint of reason, there is no reason for this film.”

Godspeed to all of those who will be traveling in 2017.

The Politics of Public Media

My 16-year-old daughter doesn’t watch much television. When she was much younger, my wife and I, among other parenting millions, obsessed over things like limiting her screen time. We had assumed that too much television (and gaming) would rot her brain, just as TV alone (even in its relatively benign, limited-channel incarnation) had nearly managed to rot the brains of our contemporaries back in the 1960s and ‘70s.  

Today, however, we laugh at our primitive attitudes on this front. Both our kids rarely watch television; they never got into gaming. And yet their “screen time” — between all the media they consume on their phones, tablets and computers, their continual communication via social media portals, and just plain ol’ surfing the Web (which includes watching anything they want via Hulu) — is higher than we could ever have imagined. Hell, they’re obliged to indulge in major screen time to simply do their schoolwork. 

On those occasions when Clara does indulge in traditional TV, she sits on the couch (with her laptop open) watching a show called “Say Yes to the Dress”, wherein “ordinary” American women of marrying age attempt to choose wedding dresses for their pending nuptials. The show is a trifle — reality TV at its worst/finest, depending on your point of view. But I did happen to notice the other day that “Say Yes” appears on The Learning Channel.  

This fact, this irony, is no longer particularly newsworthy — but only because we’ve inured ourselves to the long, steady brow-lowering of the culture in general and television programming specifically. Indeed, it reminded me of a serial news story that is sure to crop up again soon, now that the Republicans have taken control of both houses of Congress.

Every couple years, America’s right wing decries the public funding of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the quasi-governmental parent company to the Public Broadcast Service (PBS) and National Public Radio (NPR). It happened during the 2012 election, when Mitt Romney brought it up. Somewhat hilariously, he was promptly shouted down for waging a “War on Big Bird”.

I’m old enough to recall this biannual rite of the political right, but Google the subject and you will find for yourself the steady drumbeat on this subject, from the right, dating back years and years. There was the Big Bird kerfuffle, which followed the Juan Williams affair (whereby this longtime NPR commentator was dismissed for expressing a fear of flying next to Muslims on planes — something I happen to be doing right now, as I fly from Kuala Lumpur to Melbourne). It doesn’t take anything more than an omnibus spending bill to set things in motion: The government cannot do anything so well as the market does it, the right-wingers thunder. So why is the government in the business of creating left-leaning, educational and informational programming?

Pat Buchanan spelled this out, again, in The American Conservative back in 2010 — namely, that America “cannot afford the luxury of providing news and entertainment to a nation with hundreds of cable TV channels and hundreds of AM, FM and satellite radio stations, not to mention scores if not hundreds of nationally syndicated radio programs.”

Buchanan’s implication is that private-sector radio and TV networks alike are already creating programming of comparable scope, quality and educational value. The government cannot possibly do it so well (because government does nothing well). So, why spend public dollars on this redundancy?

This line of argument dates back to the early days of this century when conservative politicians bemoaned the allocation of public money to PBS and NPR. “Look at all the arts and entertainment programming there is on TV today,” they bellowed, citing then-fledgling channels like A&E, Bravo, The History Channel, and The Learning Channel, in a then-emerging cable universe. “Here is the market already meeting these legitimate consumer needs for classy arts, documentary and otherwise. Why do we need PBS?”

Which brings us back to “Say Yes to the Dress” and its home on the so-called Learning Channel.

Have you spun through a typical 24-hour broadcast day on TLC? Hit the Guide function on your remote sometime and give it a whirl. It’s one piece of reality TV schlock after another. Look over at A&E or Bravo: More of the same embarrassing tripe. Flip over to a few of the “kids” channels: worthless reality content (themed for youngsters) sandwiching other mind-numbing programming that could never be considered “educational”, even by Republican senators who, when push comes to shove, are more likely to classify ketchup as a legitimate school-lunch vegetable.

This is not to disparage the glorious free market (which, as we all know, is regulated every which way and has been FOR-EVER). Privately held TV and radio entities have no obligation to produce/broadcast worthwhile arts, educational and documentary programming. Neither does the market give them incentive to do so — as we’ve seen by the slow and steady decline in quality programming on all these once high-minded channels.

This is precisely why we need PBS and NPR. Anyone who listened to Serial, the stunningly good, long-form podcast series from the makers of This American Life, will attest to this. So will anyone who caught “Muscle Shoals”, a documentary produced privately but aired in December (and every Monday night, all year long) on the consistently stellar PBS documentary series, Independent Lens.

As an issue, public funding of the Corporation for Public Broadcast has, in actuality, become something of a canard. Only 10 percent of your typical public TV or radio station budget relies on government grants from CPB. The balance comes from a station’s own local fund-raising, which includes hefty contributions from “corporate underwriters”, who clearly see the value in this sort of quality programming, or they wouldn’t support it. The anti-CPB noise is all political theater.

Still, it remains important to fund the CPB, even at these meager levels — not because we need to prop up left-leaning programming (someone will have to point out to me what it is that’s inherently liberal about “Downton Abbey”, or Judy Woodruff). No, we the people need skin in that game, in the form of public money, because that little bit of government funding keeps everyone’s feet to the fire.

Wanna know what happens when that fire is removed? Go ask Honey Boo-Boo. 

The Cultural Politics of Air Rage

Growing media notation of the term “air rage” has, if nothing else, raised the bar on what travelers consider truly bad behavior. We’ve all had the experience of sitting beside, or near, someone whose displeasure — with the airline, with the attendant staff, with a husband, wife or co-worker — was manifest. But verifiable instances of “air rage”? These are rare. I’ve never been witness to one — and yet news of ever-more egregious examples seems to arrive here, via MM’s various travel news feeds, each week. See here where a 43-year-old male was ultimately strapped to his seat after head-butting a stewardess on a flight from Kuala Lumpur to London. See here the report of a 58-year-old traveler jailed for 6 months after attacking a female purser on a flight from Newcastle to Ibiza.

One hesitates to generalize about such things. However, up until recently, it appeared a great many of these incidents had two things in common: booze and a British passport. Where I live, in Maine, there’s a small airport serving the northern city of Bangor. Only regional jets fly in and out of this tiny market, but the runway there is outsized. Why? Two reasons: 1) It must be long enough to accommodate trans-Atlantic flights that may, on account of strong headwinds, need to land; and 2) Every so often some unfortunate captain is obliged to touch down in Bangor, not to refuel, but to unload on the local constabulary some particularly drunken, unruly Brit. This is not an isolated occurrence. It’s been going on serially, for some time.

Having gone to university in London and subsequently traveled all over the UK, I’ve witness dozens of outbound flights where some (certainly not all) British passengers view holidaymaking as an excuse to totally cut loose. I’ve got first-hand experience with this dynamic. Was it “air rage”? No. But I do think there is something to the idea, born of armchair psychology, that Brits cut loose on holiday in reaction to leaving what remains a very buttoned-up, class-restrictive culture.

Perhaps this helps explain the recent spate of air rage incidents on Chinese flights. Clearly, more and more Chinese are traveling abroad; 2014 marked the first time outbound international travel topped 100 million. Like the British, perhaps particularly high-strung Chinese view international travel as an opportunity act out in ways they cannot at home.

The Brit on his way to Ibiza attacked the purser because she had “tried to confiscate a Lucozade bottle that had been filled with brandy.”  The incident on AirAsia’s Dec. 11 flight from Thailand to Nanjing revolved around four Chinese irate that they couldn’t get hot water for their cup noodle.

Different triggers. Same dynamic.

It’s surely dangerous to speculate much further on the cultural factors underpinning such incidents. Four passengers making a scene remains quite isolated behavior, even when set against the 200 other, perfectly reasonably passengers on that particular flight.

However, the American insurance conglomerate Chubb now offers insurance coverage against air rage. According to the UK’s Daily Telegraph, Chubb will provide some US$15,000 of coverage (for an annual premium of US$3,500) to cover medical or psychiatric services, or missed workdays resulting from incidents of air rage. Chubb reportedly chose to offer this policy after commissioning a report on the air rage phenomenon. Said report advises passengers confronted with air rage to ask the unruly passenger’s name and stand at a 45-degree angle to him or her – on their non-dominant side (is that the hand holding the noodle, or the one shaking his/her fist demanding hot water?). It also warns against “mirroring” the mood of the angry passenger, and that smiling is not a good idea because it could be construed as “ridicule”.

Good food for thought… which leads us directly, in conclusion, to the “nut rage” incident involving the now-infamous Korean Air Lines heiress who strongly objected to being served packaged macadamia nuts. Cho Hyun-ah, the daughter of Korean Air's chairman, didn’t merely pitch a fit; she ordered the plane back to the gate and the offending stewardess off her Dec. 5 flight from New York City. Cho has since resigned in shame; her father has more or less thrown her under the bus, admitting publicly that he didn’t raise her right. Heads continue to roll in wake of this episode.

Judgment from the Korean public has been less harsh. Apparently, sales of macadamia nuts there have soared.

Anvaya Cove named Best New Course in Asia

We can’t let December slip away without congratulating our friends and clients at Anvaya Cove Golf & Sports Club for being named Best New Course in Asia by Asia Golf Monthly magazine. This coveted plaudit is bestowed each year as part of the 2104 Asia-Pacific Golf Summit, held earlier this month in Singapore. Many consider the Asian Golf Awards to be the centerpiece and highlight of the annual Summit, as they are the only course honors that take into account the entire region.

The goals for Anvaya Cove have always been lofty. The project developers at Ayala Land Premier, in collaboration with Anvaya Cove General Manager George Cadhit, understood just how good this golf course would be. Through Mandarin Media, they were determined to expose this golf experience to the media and course raters who matter — while maintaining the exclusivity of what remains a very private club. That’s a delicate balance… They were also keen to strike a blow for golf in The Philippines, as no course from the archipelago has ever been crowned Best New Course in Asia. Mission accomplished, on all fronts.

We at MM have always been frank with clients about the course-rating process, which can be fickle. Naturally, it’s vital to deliver only the most influential media and raters to the course. However, once that has been achieved, the course must ultimately stand on its own merits. Accordingly, we must doff our caps to Kevin Ramsey, the course architect responsible for the 18 holes at Anvaya Cove.

Kevin and David Dale (his partner in Golfplan) are responsible for dozens of superb and highly decorated courses worldwide. But Mr. Ramsey may have outdone himself at Anvaya Cove. The stretch of seaside holes on the back 9 may have gathered the lion’s share of attention (seaside holes always do), but the overall routing here is highly inventive and serially thrilling.

One more shout-out to photographer Tom Breazeale, whose images of the course did it justice. Other photographers have since beaten a path to this spectacular piece of ground, just south of Subic Bay, and we'll be sharing their images in due course. But Tom shot it first, and his capture of so many intriguing visual elements (golf-related and otherwise) were key to exposing Anvaya Cove to such a large and influential audience. 

Tournaments on TV: Do they truly sell the destination?

Another week, another commitment of public funds to a professional golf tournament — all in the name of securing some portion of the US$2 billion international golf tourism market. The latest example of this time-honored gambit centers on Fiji, whose government will reportedly commit 12 million Fijian dollars (about US$6 million) to the year-old Fiji International, an event that debuted in August 2014 as a joint stop on the Australasian and One Asia tours. The second incarnation is planned for October 2015 — strategically scheduled to make it easier for marquee players to pop down to Fiji direct from the Presidents Cup competition, slated for the prior week in South Korea. 

Where to begin…

Conventional wisdom in golf circles holds that professional golf tournaments are key to the effective marketing of golf destinations. There’s no arguing that television coverage effectively showcases the host course itself. In Fiji, this benefit will accrue to Natadola Bay GC, a David Kidd design which, by all accounts, is a lovely track. But the other courses in this island nation? This is a very difficult case to make.

Mandarin Media has been involved with dozens of international tournament events in our 17-plus years handling golf-specific media and destination-marketing efforts on behalf of individual properties and destination clients in North America, Asia-Pacific and Europe/UK. It’s clear to us the connection between hosting a professional event and the growth of golf tourism in the larger hosting destination is surprisingly slight.

Golf tour operators will tell you the same — and these are the outfits whose businesses are based on the attraction and servicing of incoming golf holidaymakers. Surely, hosting tour stops in country doesn’t hurt the cause. But does it help? Will attempts to build a viable Fijian golf destination be buttressed in a way commensurate with the outlay of F$12 million public funds? We’re dubious.

There are several systemic explanations for why this presumed destination benefit amounts to magical thinking:

• The media who cover professional golf tournaments are, in the main, not the media who typically write the big, fat, high-value feature/travel stories that truly sell a destination to readers. They are, instead, golf writers who are more concerned with Vijay Singh’s scoring average on par-5s vs. where to play, eat, lodge and party across a region.

• What’s more, with editorial budgets tighter and tighter, media outlets are sending fewer and fewer people to cover these events in person. Media Centres at these tournaments are veritable ghost towns, save the local media who, again, do not have any destination-marketing mission. Most international/regional outlets are content to get reports off the wire and run those alongside wire-derived imagery. These barely tell the story of the host course, much less the destination.

• Media events funded by some combination of host club, tournament organizer and state tourism entity can work around the above concerns — by bringing in media that will write the broad, destination-oriented stories. However, if the host course has shelled out millions to host the event (which is normally the case), that course/club is often loathe to share the spotlight with other venues comprising the golf destination, which are viewed domestically as competitors and probably didn’t shell out to make the event happen.

• Oftentimes the host course is putting up the money to host a prestigious, professional event because it’s seeking international cachet (for the purposes of selling memberships or associated real estate). This makes them even less likely to enable the sharing of media coverage with other courses.

Those are the general reasons. Let’s get specific to Fiji:

• For starters, Fiji only boasts two international-standard courses (some snobs would argue there is only one: Natadola Bay). They say it takes only two courses to make a golf destination, but Fiji’s case pushes the limits of the axiom.

• The Australasian and OneAsia tours are minor-league tours. Telecasts of these events simply do not reach the number of golfers who tune into European Tour, U.S. PGA Tour or even Asian Tour events.

• If more than 1-2 President Cup participants make their way to Fiji for the International, we’ll be surprised. To divert 3-4 top names from Korea, nearly all of the F$12 million would be required.

There’s another amorphous, ill-conceived bit of conventional wisdom at play here — that 1) golfers themselves will travel internationally in order to watch a tournament; and 2) thereafter (or perhaps before), they will take a spin around the region to play other courses. While this dynamic doesn’t apply to Fiji, where there are so few courses, it can happen elsewhere. However, these tournaments put a sizable strain on hotels, restaurants and other amenities the week before and after the fact. Hotels are way more expensive during this time; courses are more crowded and charge a premium; transportation is more expensive and harder to come by. In short, it’s a madhouse and not at all conducive to accommodating golf holidaymakers looking for value and ease. The host course is busy hosting the tournament and is thus off-limits, naturally. The further one travels from the tournament site, the more this situation is eased — but that makes it harder to attend the tournament, which predicated the trip.

State tourism agencies often use local tournament telecasts to promote the destination aspects of an in-country region — via TV promos aired during broadcast coverage. This makes sense. Viewers fit the golf holidaymaking demographic to a T. But then, they make sense during any tournament telecast that reaches target markets. You don’t have to host a tournament in country to accrue this benefit. Think of the impact that sort of campaign could have around Asia-Pacific, during multiple tournament telecasts, in concert with a proper print/online media campaign. A great deal could be accomplished for a fraction of F$12 million.

Indeed, the outlay of that sort of cash for such ultimately narrow purposes only invites backlash, something already stirring in Fiji. Early in December, opposition member and shadow tourism minister Viliame Gavoka pointedly questioned the need for government to grant $12 million to next fall’s Fiji International — and he minced no words: “Why is that money being spent on the tournament when just metres away from the hotel is a village where they are pumping water from a borehole full of tadpoles?” he told the Fiji Times. “The nearby Emuri Village lost the bridge connecting them to the road in the recent floods and to date, they still don't have a bridge. Fiji can not compete at the PGA level. We are not Malaysia. We should instead spend just $2m on various local tournaments and invite overseas players.”

Tourism Vid Explores Power of Misdirection

Bold, potentially sea-changing move from the Tourist Authority of Thailand in creating and posting, on YouTube (under a fake name/account), the now-infamous “I Hate Thailand” video. See a rundown of the “controversy” here. That link also includes a link to the video itself.

It’s certainly nothing new for state tourism entities to create video designed to tout the highlights of countries and particular destinations within countries. But there was always a disconnect between these more traditional pieces of rich content and the audience most likely to “act upon” (i.e., view/share) that content: We’re talking young media consumers here. Traditional tourism videos produced to support broad, branded themes were never going to induce young viewers to consume and share.

That’s why the “I Hate Thailand” video is a noteworthy departure. It’s faux-homemade ethos and counter-intuitive theming is aimed squarely at young, Western travelers who, like the subject of this short film, seek exotic-but-ultimately-safe-and-satisfying venues for long-term walkabout. With these consumers, the video’s message appears to have resonated (it has achieved 1.8 million views as of this writing). But the content is clearly a piece of naked propaganda, as well — something young, savvy media consumers will see immediately (more immediately than older, more traditional holiday-makers) and perhaps object to.

It remains to be seen whether subsequent views and shares will focus on the video’s ultimately hopeful, pro-Thai themes, or this piece of elaborate misdirection. Judging from the comments on this video, it’s both — though I was struck by how many viewers chose to stick up for Thailand and offer other stories supporting the pro-Thai theming. They can’t all be plants of TAT. Can they?

FootGolf: An Idea Whose Time Has Come?

Here’s all I have to say about the advent of footgolf: “It’s about freakin' time.” Anything that essentially combines my two favorite participatory sports — and knee-high argyle socks — has my full attention and support.

I had known there was something out there like this, but until I read this piece, more than a year ago, I had no idea it was so well developed, and so intrinsically awesome. As a devotee of disc golf, I embrace the "root" game in all its alternative forms. But this one takes alternative to a new level. There are world championships and leagues, even a rule book, to be consulted in the event one’s approach hits the pin and ricochets backward into a lake. (Of course, if that should happen, the ball would be floating on the surface and could presumably be retrieved, prior to a legal drop). Check out more information here. 

In the past 12 months, here in the U.S., we have seen the advent of footgolf courses by the dozen, as traditional golf courses — attempting to combat a golfing population (and revenues) that would appear to be shrinking — reach out to an entirely new demographic. See here a piece MM helped a client write and place in a prominent industry journal. Approximately 2-3 footgolf holes can be fit inside a single traditional golf hole, so an entire 18 can be housed inside a traditional 9-hole loop. This means a public golf course can set aside 9 for golfers and 9 for footgolfers — though there's no reason they cannot co-exist. My brother and I sampled the footgolf course at Sagamore-Hampton GC in coastal NH this summer. We had a stupendous experience, and we sifted into the mix seamlessly. Traditional golfers played in front of us and behind us, and no one was inconvenienced in the slightest.

Soccer and golf have a long and distinguished history together, of course There's the dreaded foot wedge... And there was that time Alan Shearer played through our group at Gleneagles. I'd love to see him hole out with a proper foot wedge and run the length of the hole with his signature hand held high.

A Few Words (not 1,000) re. the Power of Golf Imagery

We gather, view and leverage killer golf photography nearly every day — often multiple times each day. Those of us in the trade often refer to these beauty shots as “golf porn”, and this particular photo — the back tee on the 16th at Cape Kidnappers GC in Hawkes Bay, on the east coast of New Zealand’s North Island — presents a non-traditional example. It has always intrigued me for what it lacks and what it delivers (full disclosure: This course is a client of Mandarin Media). Our job is to get magazines and website to print or post an image like this, but I don’t know that many have done so. It’s a funny shot, captured by the talented Chris McLennan. Maybe editors choose others from Cape because while the 16th is a magnificent, incredibly photogenic par-5, this image doesn’t give any indication of that. It attaches the viewer’s eye to no golf hole whatever, not that we can see or even vaguely discern. On the other hand, any golfer looking at this photo could and should think to himself, “How bad could this hole possibly be?” I was traveling with some fellow golf writers a while back and the subject of Cape Kidnappers came up. One tried to argue that while Cape is a magnificent course (Top 50 in the world according to all the trusted rankings), and among the 10 most photogenic courses on Earth, it’s not that scenic for the golfer actually playing the course.  I beg to differ, and I imagine that anyone standing on 16 tee — some 500 feet above the South Pacific, looking back at five holes with similarly perched vantage points — would beg to differ, as well.