Both
despite and because of
those reviews, I was skeptical. Like the last 12-year-old
in town to
see the Harry Potter movie, I was determined not to become as
besotted
as the impressionable oafs who had gone before me. Besides, I had been
burned before, especially when I had traveled long distances.
Machrihanish,
Royal Dornoch, L.A. North, Seminole and Kawana are among
the far-flung venues
that have failed to live up to my
expectations.
Moreover,
having studied the
rankings for two decades, I knew that courses bursting into
the top 100
routinely jump on at unrealistically high numbers, because the first
people to play and rate them usually are locals or friends and
associates of the
course architect or owner/developer. A backlash
invariably occurs in the next
ranking, when the second wave of
raters—skeptics and curmudgeons like me—add
their votes. Typically, it
takes six years—three ballots—for a course to find
its rightful rung.
However,
all that skepticism
about Pacific Dunes was balanced by a longtime friendship
and respect
for its designer. I had known Tom Doak since his college days and
had
helped him ply his talent as a golf writer before he pursued a career in
course architecture. I had no doubt Tom could craft a superb golf
course.
So
could it be true? Could this
upstart pseudo-links really be the best course I
had never played? More
to the point, could it ever replace the course I had long
cherished as
No. 1, Pebble Beach? There was only one way to find out. Thus it
was on
Monday of Memorial Day weekend that I set off on a four-day investigative
boondoggle: two rounds at Pebble followed immediately by two rounds at
Pacific.
The
comparison would not be
easy, I knew. I had played Pebble Beach more than 30
times, in all
conditions, from all tees. I had had great rounds and awful ones,
but
never a round that wasn’t a joy. Pacific, on the other hand, was a blank
slate and I would have only two shots at it.
Happily,
however, I was blessed
with ideal circumstances at both places: great weather,
tour-caliber
caddies, affable and low-handicap playing companions, and ideal
starting times—one morning and one afternoon at each site—that resulted
in an
average round of well under four hours. (In fact, the early time
at Pebble was
6:10 a.m. and we walked off the 18th green less than
two-and-a-half hours
later.) What’s more, my game was equally weak at
both places. So the playing
fields, topography aside, were dead level.