The Uncomfortable Truth About Tour Venues: When Legacy Becomes Liability

After 35 years covering professional golf—and having spent a good chunk of that time hauling Tom Lehman’s bag around some of the world’s finest layouts—I’ve learned that there’s a massive difference between a course being historically important and a course being genuinely great to watch.

The source article this week tackles something that’s been quietly gnawing at me for years: some of the PGA Tour’s most iconic venues have become, frankly, tedious viewing. And that’s worth examining closely, because it gets to the heart of what the modern tour needs to remain compelling.

The Prestige Problem

Here’s what strikes me most about this critique: these aren’t unknown courses getting dragged through the mud. We’re talking about Pebble Beach—one of the most storied layouts in golf. East Lake, Torrey Pines, Bay Hill. Names that carry genuine weight in our sport.

The reality, though? The author nails something I’ve observed countless times from the media tower:

“Once you’ve gotten over the fact that you’re at Pebble Beach and done the customary walk to the 18th green and taken in the amazing views, you are quickly hit by obligations to part with money at every turn! It is a massive money-making enterprise with countless people dropping a small fortune.”

That quote encapsulates a larger issue. When a venue becomes more about the experience of being there than the golf itself, we’ve got a problem. I’ve watched tournament broadcasts where Pebble’s opening hole—that iconic par 4 over the cliffs—gets maybe 30 seconds of airtime because frankly, there isn’t much drama to mine from it. The real story often doesn’t kick in until holes 7-10, and by then viewers are already making their second cup of coffee.

In my three decades around professional golf, I’ve noticed something: the courses that produce the most compelling tournament viewing are rarely the most famous. They’re the ones with strategic variety, routing that builds dramatic tension, and holes that force the world’s best players into genuine decision-making moments.

The Calendar Conundrum

What really concerns me here isn’t the individual critiques—it’s the systemic issue they reveal. The PGA Tour, like any enterprise, gravitates toward stability. We’ve had the Tour Championship at East Lake since 2004. The Scottish Open has become synonymous with Renaissance Club. These arrangements make business sense from a scheduling and partnership perspective.

But from a competitive and entertainment standpoint?

“things fall apart, in my head at least, are the back-to-back par 5s to finish [at Wentworth]. The 18th is, to my eye, unfathomably ugly.”

And here’s the thing—the author isn’t wrong about this. I’ve sat in broadcast booths watching players navigate these finales, and you can feel the energy flatline. A great finishing hole should make viewers lean forward. Instead, we’re watching procedural golf at venues that should be electric.

The tour needs these signature venues for branding purposes—I get that. But there’s a difference between loyalty and captivity.

Where Experience Meets Reality

Having caddied in the 1990s, I saw how course selection directly impacted player performance and fan engagement. The courses that hosted our marquee events weren’t always the most difficult or most prestigious—they were the ones that played well for tournament golf.

Trump National (Doral) is a perfect case study. Ranked 35th in Florida—not even top 30—yet it’s hosted PGA Tour stops for decades.

“despite all the tour stops here since the 60s and now try and tell us five holes that sit in the memory bank? Now picture Riviera and we can trot out half the holes.”

That’s the test right there. Memorability matters. Riviera, by contrast, produces distinctive moments. The 10th. The 18th. The routing creates narrative. Doral, for all its conditioning and prestige, just… sits there.

Not All Doom and Gloom

Here’s where I push back slightly on the overall tone, though. Yes, these venues have issues. But the mere fact that someone’s willing to publish this criticism—and that it’s generating the kind of conversation it deserves—suggests the tour ecosystem can adapt.

I’ve seen courses get redesigned and dramatically improve their tournament profile. I’ve also seen the tour make bold scheduling decisions when partnerships weren’t working. The recent evolution of signature events shows there’s flexibility here.

The real opportunity isn’t tearing down these historic venues. It’s acknowledging that history alone doesn’t guarantee compelling golf. The tour should be asking: What would it take to make these courses tournament-compelling again? Redesigns? Rotation with other venues? Different setups?

The Takeaway

After decades in this business, I’ve learned that golf fans are sophisticated. They know the difference between a course with great marketing and a course with great golf. They can tell when they’re watching genuine competition versus watching broadcast-ready scenery.

The venues listed here have tremendous value to the professional game. But value comes in different forms. Recognizing that a course is historically important and currently ordinary viewing isn’t heresy—it’s honest assessment.

The tour’s best future comes from honoring legacy while demanding excellence. That means sometimes being willing to look hard at the calendar and ask uncomfortable questions about whether tradition is actually serving the game anymore.