I’m not a golf historian, but those who are often debate what constitute the most influential courses to golf course architecture. There’s a standard group they usually cite—St. Andrews, National Golf Links of America, Pine Valley, Augusta National, Sand Hills—and The PLAYERS Stadium Course at Sawgrass is almost always included among them. For better or worse (depending on which historian you speak), it’s hard to visualize without it what path golf design would have taken from the early 1980’s until now.
The Stadium Course didn’t so much change the direction of architecture as launch it into hyper-drive. If Sand Hills was a repudiation of virtually everything golf design had become in the previous 50 years—including most of Pete Dye’s work (perhaps ironically as Bill Coore was a protégé of Dye)—the Stadium Course embraced those elements in the extreme. Dye showed how to capture the imagination of the public using all the available excesses of modern architecture (rather than via sublimity, which is the strategy now), and for architects watching, the TPC became the touchstone for how to sell that extreme.
Indeed, one measure of its impact is how many imitators it spawned, but its lasting legacy is not limited to that ignominy. The TPC also provided a better blueprint of how to muscle a powerful, strategic golf course into a terrible, flat, wet property, giving developers everywhere the misapplied license to aggressively develop horrible real estate. Probably no course before, and certainly not enough after, has made such a convincing case for throwaway land.
It also synthesized in one grand venue the forms and design ideas Dye had been developing and refining over the previous decade. The stadium seating concept was novel, but the TPC wasn’t anything revolutionary design-wise—he’d been working in most of these troves for years; here he just implemented them on the largest stage to date.
Finally, the masterpiece created the architect as much as the architect created the masterpiece. For all the great and influential work by Dye before and since, his career would be viewed in an entirely different context without the Stadium Course. Think of Scorsese without Raging Bull, Michael Jackson without Thriller, or Pynchon with no Gravity’s Rainbow.
But none of this really explains what makes the Stadium Course great. Dye transformed a swamp into a visual gymnasium with 18 highly individual pieces of apparatus to engage. Each hole asks something different from you, and the opportunity to succeed or fail, to remain aloft or fall—often by a matter of degrees—remains breathtakingly constant.
Rather than being open-ended—we’re a long way from Scotland here—there’s typically a correct way to play the golf course depending on the pin settings. It sets up like a vast algebraic equation with shots played to exact positions unlocking the next set of integers. It’s not enough to simply draw or fade the ball depending on the set-up: distance control is equally important because it’s so easy to drift into a hazard, a poor angle or an awkward lie; miss the ideal spot and prepare to perform some real mathematics. I know of few courses where successfully executing the prescribed shots gives as much sense of reward.
Understanding the technical aspects still doesn’t convey the uniqueness of the experience. The holes are routed brilliantly, switching directions and confronting the player with endless arrangements of obstacles, colors, shades, vegetation and movements. The atmosphere is thick with visceral stimuli. Like Augusta National, most casual viewers feel like they know all the holes, but you can’t understand the surfaces, the ground movement and the degree of precision it demands without playing it.
The first hole seems basic but the slight angle of the elevated green over the fronting bunker and the raised rear portion make playing
from the right side of the fairway an absolute must. I could never get tired of the short par four fourth—the nervy little tee shot is made so much more difficult because you know from the rough or the long strip bunker down the right there’s no good way to play to the shallow green set over the canal.
The big green contour on the 8th green doesn’t show up on television, nor does the mound that guards the 12th from the left side of the fairway, or subtle drifts of that recently expanded green. Ten is a slinky, seductive par four, and the long 14th is about as good as a two-shot hole can get. And I haven’t even mentioned the last three holes. (97)
[Note: the 12th hole was remodeled into a drivable par-4 with water to the left in 2017.]
Architect: Pete Dye