Let Kids Play
The Future of Golf Sounds Like Laughter
A few weeks ago, I had the chance to visit Scotland, a place I love for many reasons, but one that is clearly important for its role as the Home of Golf. I’ve visited several times before, but it was my first visit in my role as CEO of British Columbia Golf. A couple things stood out to me during the trip, and upon reflection they highlight a few differences in the Scottish game and the culture that surrounds it.
I was visiting Royal Dornoch Golf Club in the Scottish Highlands on Easter Monday. While the temperatures were cool and the winds strong, there was a noticeable spring excitement in the air. The golf club was busy, with many families gathered for Easter meals and celebrations, but what stood out most was happening in the shadows of the new grand clubhouse: a large group of children playing on the putting green.
Some were there with parents nearby, but many were simply out there with siblings, friends, or even strangers. The younger ones were simply trying to move the ball in the direction they hoped it would go. The older ones were creating competitions, moving from hole to hole with improvised rules and endless negotiation.
But what struck me most was what wasn’t there.
There wasn’t a putting mirror.
There wasn’t a gate drill.
There wasn’t a hovering instructor correcting technique.
The putting green was simply a place for play.
The kids were allowed to determine their own games, their own groups, and their own rules. The laughter, yelling, running, and occasional chaos were unmistakable signs of children fully immersed in play. And importantly, no one seemed particularly concerned by that.
Later in the trip, while in St Andrews, I had the chance to play the famous St Andrews Ladies' Putting Club, better known to most golfers as the Himalayas Putting Course, with my wife and my mum.
My mum’s side of the family is Scottish, and we spent the week retracing family history through towns, castles, abbeys, and old family landmarks. My mum does not play golf, but despite her mild protest, we insisted she had to experience golf at St Andrews.
As we made our way across the rolling putting course, we experienced all the emotions that golf seems to offer in condensed form: moments of heroism, missed opportunities, strategy debates, lucky bounces, frustration, and celebration. My mum and wife each made a hole-in-one. I did not…a fact that was not quietly forgotten.
But again, what stood out most was the atmosphere around us.
A family of six ahead of us appeared deeply invested in the outcome of their match, yet every missed putt was followed by laughter. A group behind us had never played golf before and were collectively trying to figure out how to hold the club and generate the appropriate force to move the ball forward.
And near the starter’s hut, there was another large group gathered with dozens of young children preparing for what I learned was a local introductory golf program. Parents had dropped the kids off, helped organize the groups, and then largely stepped away, allowing the children to navigate the course together on their own.
What stood out again were the smiles, the laughter, the nervous energy, and the excited chaos of kids eager to begin their round. There was structure and supervision, certainly, but once out on the course, the children were given something increasingly rare in modern sport: freedom.
Certainly, they were learning the skills and techniques of golf. But they were also learning something much bigger – how to cooperate, problem solve, self-organize, settle disagreements, and interact socially without constant adult intervention.
Most importantly, they were discovering the game for themselves. They were simply being allowed to play.
As I reflect on these experiences and think about what is actionable for golf in British Columbia and throughout the Pacific Northwest Golf Association community, I would encourage all of us to continue fostering spaces where kids can simply be kids and where golf remains a game.
Let’s encourage parents, coaches, and instructors to occasionally step back and allow young golfers to figure things out for themselves. Let them create the games. Let them navigate the groups. Let them settle small disagreements and discover solutions on their own.
Because somewhere in that process, they are developing not only as golfers, but as people.
And if you happen to hear laughter, yelling, jumping, running, or skipping around your golf club this summer, perhaps we should view those not as disruptions, but as reassuring signs that the game is in very good hands.
After all, those sounds might just be the future of golf.