How the 16th hole of TPC Scottsdale became the wildest place in golf

Jay Morrish considered it a “solid par 3”. This is how the architect described the 16th hole TPC Scottsdalehe completed the design in 1986 in collaboration with Tom Weiskopf (with input from Tour pro Howard Twitty).

In 1987, the newly opened course hosted the first Phoenix Open. The tour never left. But most everything else went out the window. Event name changed. Advanced equipment. And a hole that Morrish envisioned as a 7-iron or 8-iron now plays to many pros like a kid’s wedge.

This is the smooth part of the transformation. The rest is bled out loud.

For nearly four decades in this part of the Sonoran Desert, WC Phoenix Open has evolved from lively to noisy to open bacchanal. And there are no better traces than the 16th, which began as a modest attention-grabber and turned into a full-fledged arena, with an atmosphere fit for a gladiatorial movement. Fans shout mid-shots and use beer mugs as projectiles. This is when they are kind. Master guardians they are not.

The hole didn’t become the Colosseum overnight. Tiger Woods’ ace in 1997 was the first major spark in the 16’s rise to fame. Or was it fame? The short-lived appearance of box races added another layer of wit, until tournament officials decided that loops on a line from tee to green was too much, even for this tournament. Racing was banned after the 2013 event.

Nowadays, every player on the field knows what they are looking for. But over time, not everyone has reacted the same way. Some have leaned into chaos; others have pierced. In 2002, Chris DiMarco ejected a suitor for yelling “Noonan” while standing over a layup, an incident that, in retrospect, may have been less about crowd control than the use of the ball. Caddyshack cliche.

There was much more to come. In 2022, Harry Higgs lifted his shirt to proudly display his abs and Joel Dahmen removed his top altogether, a moment that went viral and earned a reprimand from the PGA Tour. Tournament organizers have long walked a line, encouraging wildness up to a point, but always close to taking advantage. Sometimes, they have had to pull things back from the brink. In 2024, wet weather and long delays turned parts of the property into a swamp of over-the-top revelers.

Morrish, who died in 2015, did not subscribe to that view. But he lived long enough to form some solid thoughts about the scope of events. The evolution of clubs and balls, he said, had “destroyed the strategy” of closing the course, while cultural shifts had turned a relatively simple par 3 into “a rallying point for the over-enthusiastic and prudence-challenged gallery section”.

One can only wonder what he would make of the scene now: tens of thousands packed into the stands, beer flowing by the gallon, bellies exposed in the stands on the greens and noise levels equal to a NASCAR race. Love it or hate it, it will all be revealed this week.