A New King Inside the M25

I’m not really the type to get hyped up about golf courses. I’ve played them all my life. Grass is grass and most courses usually feel the same to me. That was until I drove through the front gates last week. It’s hard to believe a gem like this can find a place to hide within the M25 in the age of golf’s top 100. But Croydon might be the right place to dodge your typical golfer.

This place wasn’t hiding when it opened. John Frederick Abercromby laid it out in 1914, with Harry Colt advising, and when it finally opened after the war it was spoken of in the same breath as Sunningdale and The Berkshire. Abercromby designed Worplesdon, Coombe Hill and Knole Park too, but The Addington is said to be the one he loved most.

I thought I was back at the California Club. Seriously. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing and I made sure everyone in my group knew about it. What had they done to The Addington?! It looked wild. Almost like a brand new course had been carved out of nature and then left to breathe, while still holding onto some of its old DNA.

Part of that “new old” feeling, and the fact that it’s still under the radar, is because the place lost its way for a long time. The clubhouse fire in the 50s wiped out a lot of the records. Trees marched in. The bones remained. Then along came Ryan Noades, a young, slightly obsessive custodian, who set Clayton, DeVries & Pont to work on a proper restoration. Clear the corridors. Recapture the greens. Let the sandy drama show again. That’s what I was looking at. The course Abercromby drew, back in focus.

There’s a bit of sadness in the story too. The club once had two courses. Post-war, land that formed part of the second course disappeared under housing. We’ll never really know how the full 36 might have stacked up against the very best. What’s left is more than enough.

The first hole has always been iconic, but with fewer trees, new greens, ridiculous slopes and run offs, it’s now a signature. The bunkering reminded me of yet another country. Australia. Like the Bay Area met the Sand Belt… in Croydon?

The Mad Dog (MANORS marketing director, who dons a self appointed nickname) agreed, which made me feel slightly less insane. I blame the beauty of the place for inspiring him to play his best ever golf that day. He was swinging like prime Koepka off the tee (he also edits this newsletter).

The wind was swirling like crazy, which made the whole thing even more dramatic. Then, in the middle of it all, there’s Mad Dog standing on the back of a golf cart, watering can in hand, baptising Joe and me in the name of content. The new waterproofs stood up to it. Gallon after gallon of water went directly over my head. More than any downpour I’ve played in. And the MANORS gear just shrugged it off like it was nothing. It was under this deluge that the reality of the Addington hit me in the gut.

People rave about Sunningdale, Wentworth, Walton Heath, and fair enough, they’re good courses. But what strikes me about The Addington is that it doesn’t try to be those places. It’s more rugged. More real. It’s London’s course. With a view of The Shard and Wembley arch on several holes. The kind of place that keeps you awake at night replaying shots, then has you itching to go back the next day just to see if you can finally make a five instead of a six on that one outrageous par three with the poppadom green.

There’s even a legend baked into that poppadom. Abercromby couldn’t choose between two green sites on a favourite hole, so he built both. Over time, one vanished into the trees as the club drifted. During the restoration, Noades and the team found the old site and turned it into a spare par 3. About 120 yards. Tiny target. A Machrihanish Dunes-style sliver of sand-capped madness right there in Croydon (that’s now California, Australia and Scotland!). It also means the course can play 19 while they continue to improve it, and later they can mix the routing when the mood takes them. Very Addington.

Golf courses should be memorable. Not perfect. The Addington nails that. A hidden gem no longer.

There’s a new king inside the M25.