A timeless Irish links - Golf

Chief Executive, The, June, 2003 by Eamon Lynch

Driving along the craggy coast of County Clare toward the village of Doonbeg, you get the feeling that the 20th century passed largely unnoticed in this remote corner of western Ireland. The journey winds through the Burren, a spectacular moonscape of prehistoric limestone that stretches for miles, and onward past the famed Cliffs of Moher, which climb more than 700 feet from the Atlantic Ocean. Only the frequent cayalcades of tour buses offer a hint of modern tunes.

The newest addition to these environs, Doonbeg Golf Club 40 miles west of Shannon Airport, fits right in. It lies at the end of a lane barely wide enough for a horse-drawn cart. The road there weaves between stacked stone walls and around tiny, whitewashed cottages. It's an Irish postcard version of Augusta National's Magnolia Lane so perfect you expect to be greeted at the bag drop by a tweed-clad character from The Quiet Man.

When Greg Norman, the Australian golfer, unveiled his design of Doonbeg last year, it blended seamlessly into the surroundings, giving every appearance of a course that had been there for a century or more. And it has, if only in theory. The Scottish Black Watch Regiment first considered building a links on the property as far back as 1892. When a lack of rail access suppered the plan, the regiment marched about 20 miles north to Lahinch and crafted what would become a temple of golf.

It may have taken 110 years, but Doonbeg Golf Club was worth the wait. Norman's layout is magnificent, slinking between the soaring sand dunes perched above Doughmore Bay. "If I spent the rest of my life building courses," says the two-time British Open champ, "I don't think I'd find a comparable site anywhere."

He is not exaggerating, as a number of American CEOs who have teed it up at Doonbeg can attest. "It is a wonderful golf course, and you don't even know it's there until you are on top of it," says Gary Tolton, CEO of Zero Restriction, a golf outerwear manufacturer based in Hallam, Pa., who recently took a golf trip to the United Kingdom and Ireland. He adds, "I enjoyed it as much, if not more, than any course I played," including Ballybunion, a nearby Irish gem, and Scotland's fabled Prestwick and Troon.

Norman confesses that, given the extraordinary natural setting, on many holes his work. involved little more than cutting the native fescue, bent grass and rye. He needed to move only 20,000 cubic meters of earth, a far cry from the million-plus that many modern courses demand. Not that Norman actually built a modern course: Doonbeg is a strikingly traditional links, with the first nine leading away from the clubhouse and the second nine winding back in. Unfortunately, a new clubhouse and a lodge of luxury suites are due to open in 2005, which will detract from the rural charm. But until then, the temporary clubhouse, a simple brick cottage, only adds to the ambience.

The opening hole, a par-five, ranks among the most spectacular anywhere. It has an elevated tee (avoid the cottage on the right!) and a fairway that sweeps 567 yards down to a green sheltered in an amphitheater of dunes. It sets both a tone and a standard that are equaled by what is to come. The early holes run inland and include two notably demanding approach shots--one of them, on No. 4, over an old rock-and-sod wall.

Doonbeg's signature hole is the 14th, which makes up in ferocity what it lacks in length. This might be the most daunting 111 yards in golf, eclipsing even the venerable No. 7 at Pebble Beach. The green is little more than a narrow shelf, carved into the steep slope of a dune that tumbles down to the beach. The rules of thumb are simple: Don't be short. Never go long. Right is lost. Left is dead. Otherwise, it's just a flip with a wedge. Unless, that is, a gale is blowing, as it was the day Norman, a long hitter, had to lash a five-iron.

Asked how he fared at No. 14, a question sure to be asked of everyone who plays Doonbeg (just as anyone who plays TPC at Sawgrass in Florida is asked how they fared on the famous island green), Tolton of Zero Restriction doesn't miss a beat. "I made a two!" he says, before conceding, "with my second ball."

The other short holes are only slightly less intimidating, even for a CEO used to facing demanding shareholders during a downturn. Though just 134 yards, the ninth lies knee-knockingly close to a steep drop-off to the beach, while the 142-yard 11th is protected by a cavernous bunker in which one could safely bury a Humvee.

The par-fours place a premium on strategy over might. The 15th hole, for example, features a fairway reminiscent of a runway at LaGuardia Airport: It ends a tad earlier than it probably should. Your approach is played across an almost-hidden pathway to a public beach (which adds another offbeat hazard). As we strolled down the fairway, my caddie, Noel, remembered Christmas mornings well-past spent playing football on this stretch of land, noting that it has barely changed since.

A par 72, Doonbeg clocks in at an imposing 6,885 yards from the tips, but five sets of tees make it playable for everyone. This is no small matter, because some Irish links, such as Royal County Down, can be a heart-breaking trudge for mid-handicappers.