PORTRUSH, Northern Ireland — The phrase “there’s no such thing as a free lunch” originated early in the 20th century, when it was relatively common for American saloons to provide a “free lunch” — but only if patrons first purchased a drink. The phrase has gotten plenty of cross-genre usage in the century since, from science to sports to actual economics, but the implication dates back to the original handout: everything “free” comes at a cost.
Which brings us to this week’s Open Championship.
And the nastiest drop zones you’ve ever seen.
The ubiquity of “free drops” week in and week out on professional golf’s top circuits rankles a certain segment of fans. Their irritation comes from a sense that players are often the recipients of a real free lunch — too easily bailed out by the rules for their otherwise poor play after a ball in a bleacher, behind a leaderboard, or into a concession stand receives a friendly drop in a well-manicured drop zone. Everyday recreational golfers don’t get these breaks, after all; we don’t often play courses with bleachers. Why should pros, who we like seeing pushed to the limit, get mercy when they hit it off-line?
Even worse, some strategic missers take advantage of these loopholes, aiming for backboards, knowing their benefit, and stirring up grandstanding debates. Worst of all, high-profile relief areas are often located on the 18th hole, where the highest drama coincides with the highest concentration of grandstands and buildouts.
A grandstand behind the 18th hole at Carlton Woods caused some controversy at this year’s Chevron Championship. A DP World Tour pro stirred up some drama when he seemed to play intentionally for a bleacher at this year’s Hero Dubai Desert Classic. Pros at the 2021 PGA Championship seemed to be aiming for the bleachers on Kiawah Island’s otherwise-challenging 18th-hole tee shot. This is not a new problem. But it’s a tough problem to solve.
Big bleachers with stadium-style seating on 18th holes are awesome, after all; they elevate events and add drama to their finish. Eliminating relief is tough, too — what are you supposed to do? Make grandstands out of bounds? Have golfers play the ball as it lies everywhere, Happy Gilmore-style?
All of this makes the Open Championship’s solution the best I’ve ever seen.
Your mental image of a drop zone may be on a tee box, a fairway or a closely mown area. But for several years now the Open has had particularly challenging drop zones, and this week at Royal Portrush may boast the toughest yet. Across the board at the Open, the drop zones are a doozy: in long rough and in ferns, meant to simulate something closer to an actual lie in the rough rather than pristine bailout circles.
They’re most obvious coming up No. 18, where massive grandstands wall in the final hundred or so yards. The drop zones here are not just gnarly, they’re terrifying: set in grass so thick it would not be unreasonable to lose a ball within them. Sure, you’ll get relief if you end up in the seats — but it won’t feel like relief.
I asked officials at the R&A (the governing body that runs the Open) about their drop-zone philosophy. Here’s what they wrote back in a statement:
“The dropping zones provide an additional free relief option to the standard free relief under the Local Rule for temporary immovable obstructions (TIOs).
“We don’t want hitting the ball towards a grandstand to be a bail out option and therefore, where possible, we ensure that the dropping zones are not overly generous.“
“It is worth emphasizing that taking relief into the dropping zone is not mandatory. The player will always have an alternative relief option under the TIO Local Rule.“
It’s brilliant. Fair, creative, cheeky. We don’t want hitting the ball towards a grandstand to be a bail out option. Well done.
And it ensures that when you take a free drop, you still have to pay.
Dylan Dethier welcomes your comments at dylan_dethier@golf.com.
