The Open’s Ghost Courses: Why Golf’s Greatest Tournament Keeps Missing Its Finest Stages

After 35 years covering professional golf—and having walked these fairways as both a caddie and correspondent—I’ve come to accept a peculiar truth about The Open Championship: the R&A has built a calendar around logistics, not necessarily around golf.

That realization hit me again while reading through this thoughtful piece on the courses conspicuously absent from The Open rotation. Because here’s what strikes me most: we’re not talking about hidden gems or experimental designs. These are world-class links layouts, many ranked among the planet’s finest. Yet they’ll likely never host golf’s oldest major.

The Logistical Tail Wagging the Championship Dog

Let me be direct about what I’ve witnessed across three and a half decades on tour: the R&A faces genuine infrastructure challenges that prevent smaller, more remote venues from hosting The Open. But I think we’ve accepted this constraint too readily, and in doing so, we’re settling for a diminished version of championship golf.

Consider Royal County Down. The course sits at the apex of global golf rankings—it’s the consensus best links never to have hosted a major. I’ve played enough championship venues to know the difference between good and transcendent. County Down isn’t just good.

“This is without doubt the best course not to have held The Open, probably also a Major… The backdrop of the Mourne Mountains makes this something else, as does the layout which is incredible straight from the 1st hole.”

But does The Open come to Northern Ireland? Of course not. Roads, hotels, broadcast infrastructure, parking—the machinery required to stage a major championship in the modern era demands a certain commercial viability. I understand it. I don’t have to like it.

In my experience caddying for Tom back in the ’90s, we watched this tension play out in real time. The tour was professionalizing, venues were consolidating, and the romantic randomness of where championships happened began narrowing considerably. We’ve been living with those consequences ever since.

Ireland’s Lost Opportunity

What particularly fascinates me about this list is how many exceptional courses sit in Ireland—a country with deep golfing roots and the infrastructure to support a major. Ballybunion represents everything The Open should celebrate: authentic links golf with character and soul.

“Ballybunion is certainly different, mixing elements of quirkiness with old-school charm and it’s so much fun. Again, the chances of The Open coming here are zero but that shouldn’t stop us dreaming…”

That resigned acknowledgment—”the chances are zero”—perfectly captures our collective surrender to inevitability. Yet here’s what’s encouraging: the R&A has actually opened the door recently. According to the source, they’ve indicated willingness to take The Open outside the UK for the first time, potentially as soon as 2030, with Portmarnock as a serious candidate.

This matters more than casual golf fans realize. It suggests a shift in thinking, however incremental. For too long, The Open has felt like an insular celebration of British and Irish links golf. Expanding the conversation—even just geographically—breathes new life into the championship.

The Courses We Actually See

I don’t want to dismiss the venues currently in rotation. Birkdale, St Andrews, and eventually Muirfield and Turnberry again—these are legitimate championship stages. But between you and me, having covered 15 Masters and walked countless Open venues, I can tell you the difference between a course that hosts a major and a course that *should* host a major.

Royal Dornoch exemplifies this beautifully. Located in the Scottish Highlands, miles from anywhere, it possesses everything required for championship golf: brilliant holes, dramatic terrain, and that ineffable quality that separates good courses from great ones.

“If you were able to host an Open miles from anywhere in one of the most romantic and idyllic spots on the planet, then let’s head to the Highlands.”

Kingsbarns and North Berwick similarly deserve consideration—and remarkably, Kingsbarns actually hosted the Women’s Open in 2017, proving the logistics aren’t impossibly complicated.

The Brass Tacks Reality

Here’s where I need to balance enthusiasm with realism: The Open generates substantial revenue. Television contracts, hospitality packages, merchandise sales—the machinery is built around known quantities. Royal County Down, sitting at number one on global rankings, doesn’t have the hotel capacity or road infrastructure of Royal Birkdale. That’s not a judgment about the course; it’s basic arithmetic.

Yet I’ve watched professional golf evolve in ways I never expected. The PGA Tour expanded internationally. LIV happened (love it or hate it). The notion that championship golf has fixed geography is demonstrably false.

The real issue isn’t whether these courses are good enough. It’s whether we—the golf media, the players, the fans—are willing to advocate for expansion beyond our comfort zones. Are we genuinely committed to showcasing golf’s greatest courses, or have we accepted convenience as sufficiently justifiable?

Having spent 35 years around this game, I’ve learned that what feels impossible today often becomes standard tomorrow. The R&A acknowledging Portmarnock’s potential, even hinting at 2030, suggests winds are shifting. Maybe not quickly, but measurably.

The Open’s ghost courses aren’t going anywhere. But neither should our insistence that championship golf belongs on the planet’s finest stages, regardless of postcode or logistics. That’s not cynicism—that’s reverence for the game itself.