The explosion of golf's popularity over the past six years has most everyone in the industry feeling pretty good. Still, when a commodity’s value skyrockets the way golf’s has, it’s hard not to wonder if it’s a bubble. This is especially true in the field of high-end golf-course renovations, where private clubs are jumping in at unprecedented rates, spending two to three times what they were just a decade ago.
Prior to 2020, the most premium wall-to-wall remodels might’ve cost $10 million or $12 million, with most projects budgeted for far less. Today, it’s not unusual to see price tags in the $20 million to $30 million range. And it’s not only courses on our ranking of America’s 100 Greatest—second-tier clubs in major cities are also on shopping sprees, sparing no expense in the gilding of their products. It’s the Roaring ’20s, with cash flowing and architects booked out three years.
This seems like a sign of strength, but not everyone is bullish on the new normal. “It’s concerning,” says architect Keith Foster, who has conducted well-regarded remodels at places like Philadelphia Cricket Club and Moraine Country Club in Dayton. “You have to ask, ‘Is it sustainable?’ ”
Some of the rise in cost can be attributed to normal market forces, including heightened demand, inflation on materials and the desire to shorten renovation times to five or six months (from the usual eight to 10). Irrigation alone has nearly tripled in price. Ten years ago, a state-of-the-art system was $1.5 million. Now it costs $4.5 million.
All this impacts labor and pricing. But the underlying culprit of the rapid escalation is a surge of memberships willing to indulge on items that may or may not contribute to good or architecturally interesting golf. Overflowing coffers put all the extras into play: added drainage for tees and putting surfaces; hauling in material to sand-cap fairways; deluxe bunker liners and imported designer sand; laying sod instead of seeding; and state-of-the-art subsurface greens systems, to name just some. It’s the equivalent of purchasing every possible upgrade on a luxury vehicle.
It’s not unusual to see renovation price tags today in the $20 million to $30 million range.
“Once one club does it, that’s the standard,” Foster says. “If someone spends $30 million, another course can rationalize their renovation simply by saying, ‘We spent more than they did. It must be better.’ ” Instead of simply doing what is necessary to improve the golf course, he says, the impulse is to just do more.
These clubs might be getting what they paid for in terms of pristine turf and immaculate-looking landscapes, but it’s hard to argue any of this is good for golf. To most people, these numbers are obscene and add to a growing feeling of disparity, a sense that we’re not all playing the same game. There are also downstream effects to a small cadre of clubs effectively setting the market for all renovation work. Prices for materials, infrastructure and labor are the same for lower-budget clubs and public courses as they are for elite ones. A municipal course needing to replace an outdated irrigation system will still pay two to three times more than it would have prior to 2020. And average courses have been all but priced out when it comes to hiring a top architect to oversee what improvements they can afford.
It goes without saying that clubs can do what they want with their courses. But we’d be wise to show concern about the ripple effects of these decisions, and unwise to forget the cyclical nature of the golf business. If what invariably happens to bubbles indeed happens, what is the lasting impact? Will costs revert to their pre-2020 levels? It’s unclear that’s the way the economics work. Times are good now. Maybe they’ve been too good.
