Teeing off at Club Intramuros as a beginner has taught me patience and grit, especially while navigating its water hazards and those imposing, century-old walls.

Founded in 1906, this 18-hole course has evolved into a favorite among locals and tourists looking to squeeze in a quick round. But it’s more than just convenient — it’s steeped in history. Carved out of 16th-century Spanish moats within the ancient walls of Intramuros, the course carries the weight of the past in every fairway.

Many of the country’s top golfers, past and present, have walked these grounds — agonizing over balls splashing into the water or putts that heartbreakingly lip out. It has also become a breeding ground for aspiring junior golfers, drawn to its short yet deceptively tricky layout.

Junior golf tournaments are held here regularly, turning the historic course into a proving ground for the next generation.

On any given weekend, you’ll see young players testing their nerves on tight fairways and guarded greens — learning the same lessons of discipline, strategy and resilience that the course demands from everyone who tees it up.

So this course isn’t just a stretch of grass carved inside old walls — it carries the dreams and aspirations of countless kids who first fell in love with the game here.

For many young golfers, Club Intramuros is where ambition begins, where small victories spark bigger goals, and where discipline is learned one swing at a time.

It is also a lifeline for hundreds of families. Caddies who walk the fairways from sunrise to sunset. Greenskeepers who carefully tend every patch of turf. Vendors who rely on the steady stream of golfers and tourists. The course is an ecosystem — not just of sport, but of livelihood.

Beyond that, it draws visitors from around the world — weekend hackers, balikbayans, curious tourists eager to say they played inside a historic walled city. Their rounds translate into tourism revenue, supporting nearby restaurants, hotels and small businesses.

All of that could come to an end if President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. approves the proposed P2.3-billion plan to convert the century-old course into a forest park.

What stands to be lost is not merely a golf course, but a living piece of history — and the community that thrives around it.

At a time when the government is aggressively promoting golf tourism as a driver of economic growth, the proposed P2.3-billion plan to convert Club Intramuros into a forest park appears to run counter to that very push.

Golf destinations across the country are being marketed to attract foreign players, host international tournaments, and generate employment.

Yet here is one of the most unique urban courses in Asia — a layout steeped in history and located within a UNESCO-recognized heritage zone — facing possible closure.

The move raises questions about policy direction and long-term vision. Can the country champion golf tourism on one hand while dismantling one of its most accessible and historically significant public courses on the other?

For many stakeholders — from junior golfers to caddies to small business owners — the issue goes beyond land use. It touches on consistency, livelihoods, heritage, and the future of a sporting community that has thrived for decades within the walls of Intramuros.

Many stories have come out of that course — quiet, personal stories that rarely make headlines but stay with you long after the round is over.

Ricky, my regular caddie back then, is one of them. He used to read the greens for me with calm confidence, offering simple advice that often saved me a stroke or two.

Today, I hear he has become a teaching pro. I haven’t kept up with his journey as closely as I should have, but knowing that he carved out a path in golf — perhaps shaped in part by those long days looping under the Intramuros sun — says a lot about what that place can nurture.

It has been quite a while since I last swung a club there. Life moves, schedules tighten, priorities shift. But even now, I can still recall every hole — the intimidating opening tee shot, the water that seems to swallow golf balls without mercy, the deceptive greens that look flat but break at the last second.

I remember the sound of iron meeting ball, the splash of a mis-hit, the laughter that followed, and the long walks between shots framed by ancient stone walls.

Some courses fade from memory. Club Intramuros doesn’t. It lingers — not just as a layout, but as a chapter of life, marked by small frustrations, modest triumphs and friendships formed one round at a time.

Progress is necessary. Green spaces matter. But progress should not come at the cost of identity and community. Because once a place like Club Intramuros is gone, no amount — not even P2.3 billion — can buy back its soul.