In my imaginary scenario, Barry Serafin — hip to the technology of the age — received a topographical map for property just south of Millersburg, Ohio in his inbox at the turn of the 21st Century. “Can u build a course here?” asked a separate instant message. “LOL OK” he replied, and so was born Black Diamond.

That anecdote stemmed directly from my reaction, standing upon the No. 12 tee at what clearly deserved its status as the course’s top handicap. A 420-yard par four, doglegging right around a steep slope and treeline, with a lake following it all the way up the left side. The fairway separating the two hazards was perhaps 80 feet (not yards). It should be noted, however, that anyone opting to land on the left side of this fairway will have their approach angle blocked by a tree at the outside of the dogleg. “LOL, OK,” I said to the groundhog (one of many at Black Diamond) watching me from the lakeside. Fortunately, my strategy paid off; by playing my draw off the side of the hill, I managed to dampen its momentum just enough to settle on the fairway without getting stuck in an awkward lie on the hill’s second cut.

Such is life at Black Diamond, and little of it is any fault of Serafin. This Appalachian corner of Ohio left little sensible land for golf, and left Serafin little sensible option aside from designing anything but a “target golf” showcase. Granted, to reach those targets means thinking outside of the box. Aiming for the right rough was an unusually common theme throughout my round. Twice — nos. 3 and 14 — I missed that target and landed directly on the right side of the fairway, a sin that resulted in my ball following the contours of the land at full-speed, and ending up in an awkward place along the left rough, or in the woods ever farther left.

As an armchair architect, I immediately began to offer counter-proposals to no one in particular. Could Serafin have cleared more trees along the sides of the hole and created wider landing areas? No; a topographical map revealed that forest hid nothing but extremity…aggressive slopes and deep ravines. The rough I had been utilizing from the tee was in fact “the play.”

Although I may gripe about my awkward lies stemming from seemingly reasonable tee shots, the true victims — and the truest definition of “target golf” — lied in the approaches. Serafin’s hands were tied once again; the average green features steep, roughed grass rolling down to the putting surface on one side, and steeply away from the green on the other. Considering that Black Diamond seems to draw a significant portion of its revenue from bachelor parties and other events at its on-property cabin, I can only imagine the slaughter as the twice-a-year golfer tries to get down from one side, only to be forced to come back from the other. The local groundhogs would do well to sell their gathered Maxflis for a few bucks at the turn.