The Open’s Greatest What-If: Why Golf’s Premier Venues Deserve Their Championship Moment

After 35 years covering professional golf—and having walked the fairways of Royal County Down with my own two feet last summer—I’ve come to a rather uncomfortable conclusion: The Open Championship has developed something of a predictability problem, and not in the way most fans might think.

It’s not that we’re playing the same courses too often. Rather, it’s that we’ve collectively accepted a version of links golf that, while magnificent, represents only a fraction of what British and Irish courses could offer the world’s most storied major championship. The R&A has built a system that works—logistically sound, television-friendly, revenue-generating—but in doing so, they’ve quietly locked out some of the finest stages in all of sport.

The Logistical Stranglehold

Here’s what strikes me most forcefully about the article’s acknowledgment that Royal County Down will likely never host The Open: this isn’t a course problem. It’s an infrastructure problem masquerading as inevitability. And that distinction matters enormously.

“The Open will never come here for a host of logistical reasons, the course is easily good enough and better than all its Open peers.”

I’ve caddied for Tom Lehman. I’ve walked St Andrews in the rain. I’ve sat in the press tent at Carnoustie when the wind turned wicked. And I’m here to tell you: if we can broadcast live golf from around the world, coordinate international television feeds, and manage the logistics of the Masters at Augusta National—where traffic management is genuinely a nightmare—we can figure out County Down.

What we’re really discussing is risk tolerance and precedent. The R&A has perfected a model. Changing it requires not just capability, but will.

Ireland’s Open Opportunity

The most intriguing development in this piece, however, involves Portmarnock and the potential for The Open to venture outside the United Kingdom for the first time in its 153-year history. This could happen as early as 2030, according to R&A chief executive Martin Slumbers’ recent comments.

I think this signals something important: the governing body recognizes that the current rotation feels dated. We have Birkdale this year, St Andrews in 2027, and then what amounts to a void until established favorites like Muirfield and Turnberry can get back in the mix. A gap like that in the schedule doesn’t just represent missed opportunity—it represents a governing body acknowledging, however quietly, that their traditional venues have limitations.

“At last year’s Open the outgoing chief executive Martin Slumbers explained that they would be supportive of the club asking the Government for help in putting together a case for taking The Open outside the UK for the first time ever.”

Portmarnock makes sense. It’s a natural links—fair, challenging, beautifully conceived—and the closing holes absolutely are “made for Championship golf.” In my experience covering international majors, Irish crowds bring something electric that you simply can’t manufacture. The passion is authentic.

The Forgotten Masterpieces

But here’s where my 35 years of covering this game compels me to offer some perspective: while Portmarnock represents an achievable breakthrough, the real tragedy involves the courses that will almost certainly remain unchosen.

Royal Dornoch ranks sixth in world golf course rankings. I’ve never played it—a gap I’m determined to close—but everyone who has speaks of it as though they’ve experienced something sacred. Remote? Absolutely. Difficult to access? No question. Worth it?

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

The writer’s wistful tone here captures something I’ve felt throughout my career: professional golf has become increasingly sanitized, optimized for television, packaged for consumption. There’s nothing wrong with that from a business standpoint. But we’ve lost something in the bargain. We’ve traded authenticity for accessibility.

Royal County Down (ranked 1st globally), Ballybunion, North Berwick, and Kingsbarns represent the road not taken. These courses don’t need The Open to validate them—they’re already among the greatest in the world—but The Open needs them far more than it admits.

Royal Porthcawl: The Almost-Story

Wales’ premier course presents perhaps the most frustrating case. Porthcawl has hosted The Senior Open three times since 2014, the Women’s Open in 2023, and regularly welcomes The Amateur Championship. It’s proven capable of staging major championships. Yet the senior men’s Open remains elusive.

The course is “comfortably Wales’ No. 1” and has been discussed as a possible Open venue for years. In my view, this pattern reveals the real issue: we talk about these courses, we acknowledge their quality, and then we do nothing. That’s not logistical concern—that’s institutional inertia.

What This Means Going Forward

In my three decades following professional golf, I’ve learned that major championships aren’t just about who wins—they’re about where they win and what that venue brings to the narrative. Imagine Rory McIlroy winning at Royal County Down with the Mourne Mountains as his backdrop. Picture an American contender battling links conditions at Royal Dornoch in the Scottish Highlands. These aren’t just prettier pictures; they’re better stories.

The good news? The R&A is at least opening doors. Portmarnock in 2030 signals flexibility. But until we see championship golf return to courses like Porthcawl, or breakthrough appointments at places like County Down, we’re still operating within a very narrow frame of reference.

The courses are ready. They’ve always been ready. The question is whether golf’s governing body will ever be willing to take the risk.