The Uncomfortable Truth: Why Some of Golf’s Most Prestigious Venues Are Becoming a Drag to Watch

After 35 years covering professional golf—and having spent time on the bag as a caddie myself—I’ve learned that the most important question isn’t always “Is this a great course?” but rather “Is this a great *tournament* venue?” Those are two entirely different animals, and the distinction matters more than we’re willing to admit.

A provocative piece making the rounds has identified seven tournament staples that, despite their pedigree, have become something of a viewing trudge. And here’s what strikes me after reading through it: the author has identified a real problem in professional golf that the tour establishment hasn’t quite figured out how to fix—the creeping monotony of repetition at venues that, frankly, aren’t always built for compelling tournament golf.

The Repetition Problem Nobody Talks About

Let me be direct: when East Lake has hosted the Tour Championship for over two decades, and when the Scottish Open returns to the same venue year after year, fans develop a kind of viewing fatigue that no amount of marketing can overcome. In my experience covering the tour, I’ve noticed that casual fans often choose NOT to tune in to these events precisely because they know what they’re getting.

“If you want history and a clubhouse packed with all the good stuff, then East Lake is remarkable. But it’s another where we’re struggling to piece together different holes – everything still feels like a glut of par 4s that run alongside one another.”

That observation about East Lake cuts to the heart of the matter. The Tour Championship should be the crescendo of the PGA Tour season. Instead, it’s become the golf equivalent of watching the same Netflix series for the 20th time. Yes, it’s familiar, but that’s precisely the problem.

Pebble Beach: When Legacy Becomes a Liability

Now, I need to be careful here because Pebble Beach is arguably the most iconic golf course in America. I’ve covered five US Opens there. Those moments—Watson in ’82, Tiger in 2000—will live forever in my memory. But the article makes a point that I’ve heard echoed in press rooms from coast to coast:

“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!”

What troubles me isn’t the criticism of the course itself, but what it reveals about our tour calendar. Pebble’s opening stretch is genuinely ordinary—the kind of parkland routing that dozens of courses execute better. And while the finishing holes are spectacular, that doesn’t excuse the dull middle section that viewers endure for hours each January.

Having walked those fairways dozens of times, I’ll concede the author’s point about the turn for home. It’s not bad golf—it’s just *fine* golf at a venue that shouldn’t settle for fine.

Water Features and Memorable Holes

One trend that jumps out across these critiques: courses that rely too heavily on water hazards without architectural nuance tend to blur together. Trump National (Doral), Torrey Pines, and Bay Hill all feature prominently water-laden designs that, in tournament play, often produce one-dimensional viewing experiences.

“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 comparison is damning. Riviera, which hosts the Genesis Invitational, is a masterclass in strategic design where every hole tells a story. You remember the 10th. You remember the 16th. You remember *why* they matter. At Doral, even longtime observers struggle to recall a single hole beyond “the one with the huge lake in the middle.”

The Conditioning Conundrum

What’s worth noting—and the article touches on this obliquely—is that these courses are often immaculately maintained. Bay Hill, East Lake, Trump National: all are conditioned to tour standards. Greenskeeping excellence doesn’t translate to compelling tournament golf, though. And that’s an architectural problem, not a maintenance one.

In my 35 years covering the tour, I’ve watched as condition creep became accepted gospel. Softer greens. More manicured rough. Faster fairways. The venues have gotten better at presenting a polished product, but not necessarily a *thrilling* one.

The Path Forward

I don’t think the solution is to abandon these venues entirely. Tradition matters. History matters. The Palmer Cup at Bay Hill and the Tour Championship at East Lake carry weight that can’t be dismissed. But the tour should absolutely explore rotation models, especially for events like the Scottish Open.

What I find encouraging is that the tour is, in fact, making changes. The move toward Signature Events and elevated purses was partly designed to create competition between venues. That competition can only improve things.

The uncomfortable truth is this: the PGA Tour and DP World Tour have built their schedules around institutions rather than experiences. When a venue becomes an entitlement rather than an event, viewers notice. They click away. And no amount of tradition can fix that.

We need venues that challenge the best players *and* captivate viewers. Right now, too many on the calendar do only one of those things.