With due respect to those who want to turn the Intramuros Golf Course (IGC) into a forest park, and with a nod to our very own Miguel Tabuena for winning the International Series Philippines, allow me a few thoughts.

Nestled within the walls of old Manila, the Intramuros Golf Course is a patch of green and a rare open space in a city that has forgotten how to breathe. At the same time, it’s a living landmark that bridges the stories of what we were and what we still hope to be.

The IGC started as a flat and shapeless nine-hole course, transforming the former moats of the historic Spanish-era walled city. It was expanded to 18 holes and into a more challenging and exciting course through the genius of world-class golf course designer Andy Dye. Built in the 1900s, the IGC stands on soil that has seen both empire and war. It sits beside Fort Santiago, in the shadow of the Manila Cathedral, guarded by the walls that once held our past captive.

Across from the Manila Hotel, the site holds enormous tourism and economic promise. Imagine a heritage-themed clubhouse, night golf under the glow of old bastions, walking tours that tell stories of battles and rebirth. Done right, a world class IGC can serve as a flagship destination for both local and foreign visitors who can experience history not just in a museum but in a place that allows them to breathe, swing, and play.

The IGC is a reminder that leisure, heritage, and nature can coexist. Few golf courses in the country can claim this kind of pedigree. Fewer still can boast of the feat of keeping such a gem alive for over a century.

To develop the IGC is wise. But progress does not always need a bulldozer. Sometimes it can be a gardener. Plant more trees, carve more walkways, open it up to families, joggers, and students. Retaining the golf course will demonstrate that thoughtful urban planning need not destroy history.

Let’s also not forget the people who live off its greens — the caddies, the maintenance crew, the restaurants, and the vendors whose banana-que, fish balls and other street food we patronize whenever we play at the IGC. To them, the IGC is their source of livelihood. When we talk of redevelopment, these people must not be mowed down with the grass.

The IGC endures not just as a place to play, but as a place to remember what matters.

Generations have played here, learned here, and found solace in its greens amid the bustling city. The IGC has also become a gathering ground for community events, where neighbors meet, stories are traded, and a sense of belonging has taken root.

Walking the fairway beside the old wall, with students peering over to watch, I am reminded that the game is not about swings and scores but about continuity, carrying on a tradition that outlasts us and endures for future generations.

Take all that away, and Manila loses a part of what it is.