A Bucket of Balls and a Million-Dollar View

I wanted to play golf. A fairly modest ambition, I thought, until I tried organizing it.

First, I couldn't get a foursome together. Then every course I called seemed unable to squeeze a single into an existing group. Apparently, golf had become a team sport and I hadn't been drafted.

So I went to Trump National Golf Club Los Angeles in Rancho Palos Verdes. I hadn't been there since it was Ocean Trails back in the early 2000s, which meant I was overdue for a visit and carrying a dangerously outdated understanding of the prices.

The plan was simple: hit some balls, enjoy the day and see what had changed.

Quite a bit, as it turned out. Including my swing, briefly. More on that in a moment.

Back when it was Ocean Trails

My history with this place goes back to Affluent Golfer's print days. I did some design work for Ocean Trails, and the golf pro gave me lessons in exchange. It was an excellent arrangement: I helped make things look better on paper, and he attempted to make things look better when I stood over a golf ball.

I remember green fees being around $60, although I don't recall ever paying for a round myself. Between the design work, the lessons and the golf, I had stumbled into an arrangement that deserved its own business-school case study.

It was a different chapter for the property. A landslide destroyed the 18th hole in 1999, and Ocean Trails subsequently operated as a 15-hole course. Donald Trump bought the property in 2002; Trump National opened with a full 18 holes in 2006.

What I remember most clearly is how much I enjoyed being there.

The view settles the argument

On this visit, the gentleman at the front pointed me toward the range. I checked in and paid for a large bucket of balls.

Let's just say it was a bucket that encouraged a responsible attitude toward every swing. No casually wasting the first dozen while deciding whether your left shoulder had shown up.

Then I looked out at the ocean.

There are views you admire, and there are views that make you forget you were just conducting a detailed financial review of a bucket of golf balls. This was the second kind.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, with the Pacific spread out beyond the property. Whatever I had paid, the view was worth more. The range suddenly seemed like an exceptionally good place to have failed at organizing a foursome.

I had arrived without a tee time. I was beginning to see the advantages.

Tom, the range and the occasional presidential visit

The other great discovery was Tom, the older gentleman running the driving range. He was terrific company, with funny stories about the club and some of the people who had been there.

That is one of the pleasures of visiting a place like this. The scenery gets you through the gate, but a good conversation can turn out to be the thing you remember just as clearly.

Tom also told me how seriously security ramps up whenever President Trump is in town. From his account, those visits make for an extraordinarily secure golf course.

I was there for the sunshine and the practice balls, but hearing a little about how the place works added another dimension to the visit. Tom was generous with his time, entertaining to talk to and a very good reason to put the club down between shots.

The expensive-ball theory

When I did get around to hitting them, something unexpected happened: I hit some of the best shots of my life.

I cannot tell you whether that was the ocean view, the sunshine or the knowledge that each ball represented a meaningful financial commitment. Perhaps my swing finally understood the budget.

Whatever the explanation, I was having a wonderful time.

There is a special kind of happiness in hitting a golf ball properly. For a moment, all the instructions, equipment decisions and previous evidence against you seem to fall into place. You start thinking that perhaps this is the golfer you were meant to be.

Naturally, the place to establish that theory is a driving range, where nobody hands you a scorecard afterward.

The nineteenth hole, without the first eighteen

When I finished, I went into the clubhouse and sat at the bar. There I met a former Rams player, and we struck up a great conversation about golf. He told me about other places he enjoys playing.

I won't pretend I had set out to arrange an afternoon of coastal scenery, unexpectedly good ball-striking and golf recommendations from a former NFL player. I had mostly set out to find three other people.

Yet here I was, having a thoroughly enjoyable day anyway.

That combination stayed with me: the setting, Tom's stories, the practice session and an easy conversation at the bar. There was more to the outing than hitting balls until the bucket was empty.

Affluent in spirit

Now, about coming back for a full round.

Trump National is open to the public. The question for a golfer like me is less about getting through the door than persuading the household budget that the occasion deserves it.

The prices put me in mind of mortgage payments and small trips to Europe. Beautiful as it is, this will not become my regular tee time unless somebody considerably better organized financially invites me along.

I publish Affluent Golfer. Nobody said the title was a personal financial statement.

Still, I came away delighted that I had returned. I'd love to spend more time here, learn more about the club and perhaps tell another story or two. My old Ocean Trails arrangement has certainly set an optimistic precedent.

If a round fits your budget, this is a spectacular setting in which to spend a golf day. And if, like me, you end up on the range instead, you may discover that the backup plan deserves considerably more respect.

To paraphrase Ferris Bueller: if you have the means, I highly recommend it.

An invitation would also work.