The Open’s Greatest Ghost Courses: Why Golf’s Most Historic Championship Ignores Its Best Stages
After 35 years covering professional golf—and having walked every inch of more than a dozen Open venues as a caddie and correspondent—I’ve developed a somewhat uncomfortable relationship with The Open Championship. The oldest major in golf possesses an almost mythical aura, yet it remains stubbornly blind to some of the finest links courses on the planet. It’s a paradox that deserves examination.
The source material floating around the tour this week lays bare a reality that’s been gnawing at me for years: we’re celebrating a championship that deliberately ignores courses objectively better than many of its traditional homes. The R&A’s selection process, I’ve come to understand, has less to do with golf architecture and more to do with infrastructure, television contracts, and logistical convenience.
The Royal County Down Conundrum
Let’s start with the elephant in the room. Royal County Down sits atop virtually every credible ranking of the world’s greatest courses—perched at number one in most Top 100 lists. I played there last summer for the first time, and I understand now why people speak of it in hushed, reverent tones. The front nine alone justifies the pilgrimage; the back nine transcends golf.
Yet here’s what strikes me: this course has never hosted The Open. Probably never will. And that’s genuinely troubling.
“This is without doubt the best course not to have held The Open, probably also a Major. Having not played here before I played here last summer it went in comfortably as my new No. 1.”
The stated reason? Logistics. Location. The Mourne Mountains provide perhaps the most stunning natural amphitheater in golf, but they’re also in Northern Ireland—which presents challenges the R&A has determined are insurmountable. In my experience covering the tour, I’ve seen this reasoning applied selectively. When there’s genuine desire, the R&A finds solutions. When there isn’t, they find obstacles.
The course itself—with its devastating approach-shot demands and that sensational opening stretch through holes 2-4—would host a major championship that would captivate players and fans alike. But that’s not enough.
Scotland’s Romantic Outposts
Royal Dornoch presents another fascinating case study. Ranked sixth globally, situated in the Scottish Highlands in what the source rightly describes as “one of the most romantic and idyllic spots on the planet,” this course is a succession of brilliant holes that would create championship drama unlike anything The Open has produced in decades.
The par-3s alone—all different, all world-class—would offer the kind of visual spectacle television craves. Yet the distance from major population centers and the limited infrastructure disqualify it from consideration. What troubles me is the implicit message this sends: golf’s premier championship values convenience over excellence.
The same applies to North Berwick, ranked 14th globally. Imagine the closing stretch—the famous “Pit” with its iconic wall, the copied-worldwide “Redan,” and the homage-to-history “Home” hole—deciding a major championship. The narrative writes itself. Yet The Open’s travelling circus will never descend on East Lothian in that way.
The Ireland Question and a Possible Paradigm Shift
What genuinely intrigues me about the current landscape is the emerging possibility of The Open crossing international waters. According to remarks from the R&A’s outgoing chief executive Martin Slumbers, Portmarnock in Ireland could host as soon as 2030. This represents the first time The Open would be held outside the UK in its 154-year history.
“It might even happen as soon as 2030. As things stand we have Birkdale this year, then St Andrews in 2027 and then there’s nothing with Muirfield and Turnberry keen to get back on the calendar.”
I think this signals something genuinely important: the R&A is finally acknowledging that links golf transcends borders. Portmarnock—a natural, fair test that would be beloved by players and fans—represents an interesting compromise. It’s accessible enough to satisfy modern championship requirements while preserving the essence of links golf.
But why stop there? If the international door opens for Portmarnock, why not for Ballybunion or Lahinch elsewhere in Ireland? Why not for Dornoch in Scotland?
The Kingsbarns Paradox
There’s also the peculiar case of Kingsbarns, ranked 15th globally. This course already hosts elite competition during the Dunhill Links, yet we rarely see it at its best in October when major championships typically occur. The par-5 3rd along the coast, the par-5 12th, the wickedly subtle short 15th—these holes represent modern links architecture at its finest.
“Golf has been played here for centuries but only since 2000 has it been open in its current guise. The club, which has no membership, did host the Women’s Open in 2017.”
The fact that Kingsbarns—without membership, entirely welcoming—hosted the Women’s Open but remains overlooked for The Open proper speaks to systemic inconsistencies in how the championship evaluates venues.
A Better Path Forward
Having caddied in the ’90s and covered this game since then, I’ve watched championship golf become increasingly sanitized and predictable. The courses that host The Open have become less about pure golf and more about accommodating 200,000 spectators, dozens of hospitality suites, and media infrastructure that would rival a small city.
I’m not suggesting we return to the spartan Opens of decades past. Modern championship golf requires certain standards. But I do think the R&A should reconsider whether geography and infrastructure should take priority over the fundamental question: Is this the best course for a major championship?
The ghost courses listed here—County Down, Dornoch, North Berwick—represent golf’s soul. They deserve better than to be admired from afar while the championship rotates through the same familiar rotation. Whether The Open ever embraces these venues remains uncertain. But until it does, we’re celebrating a championship that’s settling for good when the great remains just beyond reach.
