As we headed south from Dublin to The European club, what began as a nice, peaceful, meandering one-hour plus drive on a four-lane highway, with beautiful views of the hills and mountains, came to a grinding halt the last five miles into The European Club.

“Clear, sharp left, clear, oooohh, ouch, yikes! Aaahhhh, cannot see anything past this curve, get right, right – hedge!” I barked out from the left-side navigator seat.

I would call it a challenging, puckering drive to earn your way to The European Club. Scooter was at the helm (our first day with the rental car) and he did great. What a relief it was to make it into the parking lot. He needed to take a breath, and re-group.

“Good morning. Welcome. Looks like you picked a wonderful day,” said my smiling, one-man welcoming committee.

“You ordered-up a sunny day. Well done, I am Old Tam Atkins, 12:40 tee time.”

“Welcome, yes, I believe you have a second joining you?”

“Mr. Flaherty,” I responded. “He is out taking care of the car; he should be in soon.”

With raised eyebrows, chin slightly tilted to the right, he turned to me with squinted eyes, and a sly grin to his face, and said.

“Oh. So, he must be the Alfred, to your Bruce Wayne?”

Wow! I picked up on his analogy immediately and thought to myself this will be fun, as I responded.

“Yes, I guess you could call Alfred my Man Friday. My sidekick, I could not be Batman without him.”

“Well, you know,” he continued. “That takes a bit of time. He must back the car into place to ensure a safe departure, as we call it, make sure everything is secure.”

“It’s a tough gig minding the Bat-Cave, steaming my tuxedo, shopping, cooking, you know, making my happy hour Vespers.”

“So, he has earned this round of golf?”

“Indeed.”

We must have chatted for 10 minutes, but it could have been a half-hour—we did go off on a few tangents. Turns out he was Patrick Ruddy, Jr. He was a funny, quirky character, and proud of their course, and more importantly, being the 'front of house' at The European Club. I could picture him as a mainstay in his own English sitcom.

He gave me the lay-of-the land, some background on his dad, and the course. The range, the locker room, coordination, and how we would not have any groups teeing off till at least a half-hour later.

I told him about OldTamLinksGolf.com and what we were doing promoting Links golf, and how I would love to do an interview with him when we get back to the States.

He got a secretive, James Bond, spy-like look on his face, and moved in closer and whispered.

“Well, you will have to make it soon. We have agreed to sell the course, and it will happen quickly."

The European Club is the genius and vision of its creator, Pat Ruddy, a golf writer turned architect of some great Irish courses including Ballyliffin, Rosapenna, and Portsalon, to name a few, and this course, his vision and labor of love. It is obvious that he designed the course and surroundings to his liking. It is all about golf. A celebration of golf. Nothing more.

No pretense. No bragging, no multimillion-dollar clubhouse, and restaurant nor a 500-member roster replete with a busy social calendar. Oh, and the logo? Both quirky, like the course, and brilliant! A giant golf ball atop a mini-Stonehenge. Must have been a great dream!

As was scripted out in their playbook, Gerry, Pat, Jr’s brother, greeted me as I walked out to the practice green. He was a bit more understated, and the opposite of his off-the-wall brother. Simply a quick chat about the beautiful weather, and a welcome to their lovely corner of the Earth.

On the first tee, our starter spoke of the Club’s designer/mastermind.

“This is not a true, natural links course that Pat just found, like Old Tom Morris, rather he had access to a bulldozer, and he used it!”

He spoke of the difficult and unique bunkers, they have slanted, not vertical barnwood slats that line not only the front of the bunker, but the sides as well. Thankfully, he also mentioned a great tip to us.

“If you get frustrated. Take a 7-iron and bust it (all ball) at the slats, thereby hitting a bank shot.”

Scooter and I both employed that strategy, and it worked. Especially for me on the par three second.

I must have hit it fifty feet in the air off the wood, and it landed and settled softly next to the pin for a knock-in.

I will admit that the bunkers are beautiful, sculpted, unique bunkers. Many modern architects have paid homage to this design feature. It was a go-to for Pete Dye on many courses, and I love how Gil Hanse incorporated vertical slats at Castle Stuart—and he did not overdo it.

I have always thought that one of the greatest defenses that a links course possesses is the optical illusion. Some courses, and some holes play with your mind as far as the distances. This was certainly the case at The European Club. Countless times we stood on the tee, gazed out at a par-4 and thought, “there is no way that this hole is 370, it looks more like 450 yards!” Or, from the fairway, shaking our head in disbelief with a 9-iron in our hand, thinking we would wind up 30-yards short.

Per the song by the band Queen, The European Club is a Killer Queen, gunpowder gelatine, dynamite with a laser-beam. certainly guaranteed to blow your mind—every time!

We got into the groove, and the wonderful views. It was a two to two-and-a-half club wind, and a course where your driver must be working—very similar to Royal County Down from that perspective. Scooter and I both had troubles on the front—and the scorecard reflected that frustration. It had quite a lot of memorable holes, including number three, the sole par-5, a downhill beauty toward the Sea/Brittas Bay. Number six, a 155-yard par-3, into a three-club wind, and number seven (the signature Arnold Palmer plaque hole), a gutsy par-4, and the #1 handicap hole.

Most people that know about The European Club have heard that it has twenty holes, with a 7a and 12a, and you can choose to play both or neither one. We wound up playing 7a, (but not 12a) a short par-3, at 114 yards, uphill, into a big wind. I smashed a 7-iron to pin high and made par. A fitting example of how in links golf, any given club can have a 70-yard range on any given day.

The back nine is the real strength of this course, and one of my favorite nines in Ireland (along with the front at Portrush, and Lahinch, and back at St. Patrick’s and Ballybunion). It opens with a couple fun par-4s that go out to the Sea. Eleven is a well-designed hole, with a couple strategically placed slatted bunkers up the right side requiring you to thread a drive. It is a beautiful approach to a green sloped back to front, guarded on the left by a big dune ready to gobble-up any wayward shot. Brittas Bay and the Sea lies beyond.

Twelve though Sixteen is the best stretch, with some fun holes. Twelve’s tee box looks down on the beach below. It is a breath-taking par four at 410 yards (460 for the big hitters) on this day, a left to right wind wreaking havoc the whole way. The green that awaits you is the largest in World at 120 yards deep.

Thirteen, a par-5 at 480 yards (which can be stretched to over 600) is a gorgeous hole, teeing off through a shoot that opens out toward the Brittas Bay and the Irish Sea. After navigating a few strategic fairway bunkers, you approach a huge kidney shaped green that wraps itself around a menacing bunker. If you wind up on the wrong side of pin, or bunker in this case, a wedge from the green comes into play.

Fourteen, an uphill par-3, played tough on this day into a primarily hurting, left-right wind requiring a full bore 175-to-180-yard typical shot going only 130 into the wind. Fifteen was a fun, uphill par-4 that parallels the Sea and ends-up with a green perched on a shelf up above the water—one of the highest points on the course, and the furthest (East) from the clubhouse. A beautiful vista from where to gaze back at the course.

A set of par-4’s ends out the back, each unique in their own way. Sixteen has a grass bunker in the middle of the fairway right around 240 off the tee—in addition to threading the needle through two pot bunkers, right and left. I managed to get a 5-iron (again?) out of a bad lie on the edge of that bunker, into the right-left and some hurting wind and onto the front part of the green. I rang the birdie bell with a fifty-footer—for the first one of our trip.

Seventeen is a brawny 380 yarder, mostly into the wind (on this day, but the prevailing wind would be downwind), through a shoot of dunes, to an unprotected green. Eighteen is an interesting hole. It has a shoot of trees to the left off the tee and an exceedingly difficult drive/landing area. A large dune runs down the left. The green has a quirky, horseshoe shaped moat/burn that guards the green. Must have been one of Pat Ruddy’s pet projects.

The European Club is indeed a Killer Queen—Gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam. They kept the Moet et Chandon in the locker room, inside a pretty cabinet, next to the Gents’ showers.

As the song goes:

She keeps her Moët et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet
"Let them eat cake, " she says
Just like Marie Antoinette
A built-in remedy
For Khrushchev and Kennedy
At any time an invitation
You can't decline

Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice

She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Whereas The European Club is a difficult challenge, it is wonderful, unique and beautiful. Along with Ardglass, it had the most wonderful views to the Sea—from every hole!

To Pat Ruddy’s credit, he is not trying to hide the fact that the course is more of a modern links course, like Kingsbarns, or Castle Stuart. Suffice it to say, he used the bulldozer well

The only complaint I could muster as Scooter and I took the ride back to base camp in Portmarnock—aside from being tired from the long walk—was the overabundance of the beautiful, unique bunkers. I hear that it has over 120, which I think is a lot compared to some of its Irish counterparts: 62 at Royal Portrush, 69 at Royal County Down, and a measly 40 at Ballybunion.

It is truly a quirky experience. A Killer Queen. A brut. From the pro-shop to the snack bar, to the employees, they are in their own World, no need to apologize.

All that said, it is a course that everyone needs to experience at least once. I am not sure what it will be like after the new owner takes over—rumor has it that Pat Ruddy required that “the course could not be altered or re-designed in any way.” Any way you slice it, it is well worth a trip to The European Club anytime you do a Dublin Links excursion.

As we left, Patrick, Jr bode us farewell.

“I may see you in the Caribbean somewhere…in the Bahamas and I will be serving drinks at a bar on the beach, or dinner at a wedding that you are attending. I will ask you, Sir, would you like the beef or the chicken?”

We are headed to Harbor Island next May for a wedding. I am a firm believer in kismet and have a feeling that this was not the last time that we cross paths with Patrick, Jr.

Just like Marie Antoinette--Let Them Eat Cake!

--Old Tam