Ireland - Part 1
The Ongoing Search for Craic
Craic. Pronounced “kræk”. Definition: a term for news, gossip, fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation. Usually used in the expression “What’s the craic?”, meaning “What’s happening?” It’s the Irish slang for what Americans call “vibe” for those needing a comparison. But there really isn’t an apt comparison for craic. It’s its own thing entirely. If you don’t have the craic, find it quickly. Whether it’s coming from the pubs, the cities, the country, or the course, everyone in Ireland is on the ongoing search for craic.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I first saw the advertisement run across the 30 inch television, which back in the mid-2000s was still fairly sizable. It had footage showing big swaths of grass close to the ocean and the wind whipping flags on the end of little sticks jutting out of that grass. There was sand, and scrub, and other depictions of wild, untamed wooliness. I remember there being a melancholy sounding song being played in the background as a voice in an interestingly foreign accent said general things about “the greatest courses in the world” and “Gaelic winds of time” or something overly dramatic like that. And yes, everything was very, very green. It was the first time I ever saw an advertisement for Irish golf. And since then, there was no doubt in my mind. I will play there one day.
Through a reading of the architectural classics, including Spirit of St. Andrews by Alister MacKenzie, The Links by Robert Hunter, and more recently The Anatomy of a Golf Course by Tom Doak, Scotland is not only the apparent home of golf but also home to the greatest golf. Knowing golf architecture is to know Scottish golf architecture, inside and out.
Marking a course as great is to be able to first identify what has been already marked as great, which usually includes a mention of Scottish golf. Tom Doak, Gil Hanse, and almost every other architect of note has traveled to Scotland for trips specifically for the study of its courses, normally with revelation-like reviews upon their return.
The Scots have been playing the game we know as golf (the Norwegians having possession over the precursor called “Kolven” and played, not surprisingly, on ice) longer than any other country in the world. The legitimization goes back to the eastern coast of Scotland in 1421, when the Ming Dynasty was still in existence, and even to Mary Queen of Scots giving what is now the grounds of the Old Course to the citizens of St. Andrews. Alister MacKenzie, C.B. Macdonald, and Donald Ross all studied the art of golf architecture under a man who is said to be the first, and some would even say greatest, course architect: Old Tom Morris. Where was Old Tom and the rest of the previously mentioned names from? You guessed it. Scotland.
Ireland has always been the younger brother to Scottish seniority. That is, for the most part, unanimously agreed upon. But it’s always been in the same frame of thought when describing true links, even in those classic reads. “The links of Scotland and Ireland” flow from the tongue and the pen with ease. Its history of the sport dating back to the mid-1800s, Ireland holds some of the oldest courses in the world, including The Royal Curragh Golf Club established in 1852.
A Course Called Ireland was, excuse me, still is a big deal. Tom Coyne, the author of Paper Tiger, A Course Called Scotland, and a Course Called America, gave new meaning to the walking game when he decided to play every links course in Ireland on foot, not only walking from hole to hole, but also from course to course. Which means that he walked the entirety of the country with a backpack to carry his clothes and a lightweight, small golf bag to carry his clubs. The book exploded in popularity, and is what put Ireland on the radar for me personally, more than just an ad paid for by the Irish government. It gave legitimacy to Ireland’s stature as a bucket list destination targeted to a generation swept up with courses holding “championship style” layouts and carts holding young, attractive cart girls.
Really working for one’s adventure seemed a lot more satisfying than always knowing the next step. When it came to Irish golf trips, that usually meant getting into a busload of other Americans and sipping on a double Irish coffee until arriving at the next golf club, giving a half-hearted smile and greeting to your caddie, and then being on your way. Tom Coyne dodged cars, trucks and tractors while hiking on the sides of the many narrow Irish country roads. He had to deal with the weather, there being no car to sit in and wait out the rain.
He had to deal with the Irish people, which even to Tom whose family is from Ireland, took some time to get used to such quirky brashness. “Frankly, the Irish were a little rough around the edges, they were professionally opinionated, and behind the laughter there was laughter that filled whole jukeboxes, that you could see from time to time on a park bench or at the end of the bar–big hearts, easily broken,” he artfully portrays. But come the end of his trip, a whopping four months, 4,531 strokes, 1,967,680 yards of golf course, and 196 pubs later, the phrase “have to deal” wasn’t in the myriad of things to say about Ireland. I was excited to gather my own opinions on the matter.
If you liked this piece, please let us know by tapping the heart button below. It helps more people find our writing. Thanks!
