The subtle genius of Augusta National’s greens.
Countless words have been written attempting to decode what makes Augusta National the object of such fascination and fantasy. As broad or specific as these explorations can be, the genius of Augusta’s architecture can almost always be traced to the dynamism of its green complexes.
Augusta National’s greens didn’t start out the way they are now – not most of them, at least. The greens Alister MacKenzie and Bobby Jones conceived in the early 1930s have evolved – or been rebuilt or relocated – in response to advancements in technology and agronomy, the modern demands of the professional game during the Masters, and even because of personal proclivities. But as they changed, they gained a reputation as avatars of perfection, the game’s best.
Much of that mythology (which dates to at least the first Masters telecast in 1956) is based on their conditioning and their vaunted green speeds, which officially have never been quantified. Regardless of whether they were ever golf’s fastest greens, they’ve existed as such in popular consciousness and were the fastest the viewing public could see on a regular basis.
The paradox, of course, is that not even Augusta National is committed to keeping the greens in Masters form year-round (the course is closed for much of the year), but they’ve become the conditioning ideal for the kind of slick, flawlessly groomed surfaces clubs routinely aspire to and golfers dream of playing.
Greens running at 12, 13 or higher on the Stimpmeter are a luxury product that are also a status symbol in postcodes with the resources to maintain them. But the quest for speed comes at a price beyond economics and prestige. Generally, faster greens lead to longer rounds, creating more three-putt scenarios as balls drift four feet past holes instead of two, and players mark and grind on short putts they’d ordinarily swipe in. Architecturally, the desire for icy-hot grass diminishes the amount of contour and character that can be built into putting surfaces. Green shapes must flatten as the putting speeds increase or balls can’t hold slopes and begin running off edges or returning to the putter’s feet. This is especially true in those climates where Ultradwarf Bermuda grasses go dormant in the winter.
Without meaningful slope on the green to push shots towards or away from hole locations, hazards and angles lose relevance. When greens are relatively flat, there’s little need to stress over the placement of approach shots unless surfaces are exceedingly firm. As long as the ball is a reasonable distance from the hole, putting becomes an exercise in dialling in the pace, something good players resolve quickly.
The better example to take from Augusta’s greens isn’t the speed but the degree of contour. The voluminous slopes and swales are synced not just with swift green speeds, but with the shots and strategies being played into those greens. The contours demand players analyse target and landing spots, often away from the hole, if they want to get the ball close. If they miss, they’re faced with treacherous breaking putts and chips.
Think of the par-5 second, for instance, where the best way to get long approaches to front-right pins is to land the ball in the centre of the green and use the strong left-to-right pitch as a funnel. Similar contours move shots to front-left and back-left pins on the par-3 sixth, towards back-right pins at 14, towards middle-left and back-left hole locations at the par-3 16th, and elsewhere throughout the course if shots can be properly oriented.
Balls rolling, bending and catching slopes is how Augusta National measures creativity and execution. Tiger Woods’ long, downhill 90-degree-breaking putt at the ninth during the final round last year would require little of his genius without the green’s tiers and tilt. Of course, some degree of firm and fast conditions are necessary for balls to react so demonstratively to gravity (and assuming this year’s autumn weather is typical, there should be little if any difference in the speed or firmness of the bentgrass greens compared to early April, given the club’s ability to modify moisture and temperature), but it’s the strategically conceived shapes and movements within the putting surface, rather than speed alone, that gives golf this extra dimension common to the great courses.
Fast greens and the talents required to achieve them can be admired. But the game comes to life when the ground is turning the ball in different directions, requiring equal parts imagination and skill to navigate it. To paraphrase the old Scottish saying about wind, “Nae contour, nae golf.”
