The Modern Short

Coore and Crenshaw’s interpretation of the “Short” template eschews rigid geometry for natural disorder. The premise is binary: carry the cavernous blowout or face ruin. While the scorecard suggests a delicate wedge, the severe uphill grade and the aggressive framing of the dune conspire to shrink the target in the mind’s eye. Yet, for the ball that clears the ridge, the earth is forgiving. The green complex forms a hollow, a subtle bowl that gathers the committed strike and feeds it toward the center.

The ground here is ancient glacial grit. This is not land moved for golf; it is land revealed for it. In routing the course, the architects found this ridge waiting—a natural stage for a climactic one-shotter. It evokes the distinct menace of Pine Valley’s tenth, echoing the infamous “Devil’s Asshole,” though stretched horizontally to meet the breadth of the Nekoosa horizon.

At one hundred fifty-five yards, the shot demands nothing more than a gap wedge and composure. The former is easily found in the bag; the latter is often lost in the wind. The wall of sand offers a stark ultimatum. To strike the ball heavy is to resign oneself to the pit, a fate from which recovery is theoretical at best. But to strike it pure is to earn the walk up the dune—a brief, quiet victory over the visual intimidation that governs the hole.