Is Portmarnock really ready for the Open?

Portrush is packing up once again. The scoreboard is down, the grandstands are vanishing piece by piece and the last of the television trucks are humming their way towards Belfast. Another Open done, another job well finished. Portrush has become that rarest of Irish phenomena – a promise delivered twice and ahead of schedule.

For the second time in six years, the North coast hosted golf’s oldest championship, and once again it delivered – crowds vast and well-behaved, logistics tight and the weather reliably mischievous. But what Portrush has provided, more than anything, is proof. Proof that Ireland – or at least this corner of it – can match any of the great amphitheatres of world golf. Proof that with investment, imagination and a few lessons learned from 2019, even the most remote outpost can welcome the sporting world and not be found wanting. They said it couldn’t be done. They said it was a one-off. Portrush proved them wrong. Twice.

And so, as the Open’s travelling circus moves on, attention inevitably drifts down the east coast to another quiet stretch of coastline a few miles north of Dublin City, where the dunes lie low, the fairways run fast and the road in is narrow enough to make bus drivers start reciting the rosary. Portmarnock has not been confirmed as a future Open venue yet, but the announcement is widely expected to come soon. The whispers have grown louder. The speculation is thickening. The R&A’s fountain pen has been uncapped; it's now only a matter of putting it to paper.

The course is ready. Everyone knows that. The question is whether everything else will be. Because if Portrush has taught us anything, it’s that hosting the Open is about far more than golf.

Ireland hasn’t made a habit of chasing the world’s great sporting occasions. But when they do, there seems to be a certain Irish tradition of stepping into these opportunities with great heart and very little by way of a plan.

The 2023 Rugby World Cup bid was typical of the country's inability to step up to the occasion. There were lots of promises, but beneath the razzmatazz of the campaign lay the same old questions: hotel rooms, transport links, sub standard stadiums. France offered concrete plans. Ireland offered goodwill and a rousing speech. It was never a close contest.

Then there was Euro 2020, when Dublin was named as a host city before being quietly relieved of the honour not long after. And a little further back in the archives, like an unwanted footnote in Irish sporting history, sits the 1998 Tour de France which began in Dublin. And while the Festina Affair, the doping scandal that tore the sport apart for decades to come, was not the country's fault, the timing was, of course, immaculate.

Portmarnock’s reputation as a golfing cathedral is beyond question. Its readiness to host the thousands who would come to watch the game’s biggest stars is another matter entirely. If the Open were judged on fairways and greens alone, the matter would be settled by now.

But the Open is no longer just a test of golf. It’s a test of logistics, of patience, of how many buses you can squeeze down a road built for casual Sunday afternoon spins. So, plenty of challenges lie ahead for the North Dublin course if it's inevitably given the honour of hosting the tournament. Dublin Airport is mercifully close, but as anyone who has attempted to get across the city on a weekday afternoon will tell you, proximity and accessibility are not always the same thing.

And then there’s the hotel room issue. Big events in the capital tend to bring with them a certain economic opportunism – inflated rates and the usual crackling tension between supply, demand and decency. Portrush felt like a festival, a civic effort. Dublin may struggle to summon that same spirit. The Open would be another entry in an already overcrowded summer calendar of sport and music, another weekend of gridlock for those trying to get to Ikea. While Portrush rallied around the tournament, Dublin may simply try to profit from it.

And yet, there is a blueprint. Ireland has done this before. The 2006 Ryder Cup at the K Club was a triumph of planning, organisation and an army of buses moving with military precision. The infrastructure was laid out in advance. The roads were widened where they needed widening. The spectator experience was thought through from start to finish. For a few golden days, Ireland didn’t just host the sporting world – it impressed it.

It can be done. The question, as ever, is whether there is the appetite to do it properly, and whether the lessons of the K Club will be remembered when the time comes to turn dreams into plans.

Because make no mistake about it, the R&A is under no illusions about the scale of what’s involved. Former R&A chief executives Martin Slumbers, before departing the scene, described the logistical challenge of bringing The Open to Portmarnock as “not trivial”.

“It's all about getting people in and out of the peninsula,” he said. “It's a tight little area, and to move that number of people, you need to be able to treat the people not just properly, but you need to have safety and health and all sorts of things that are really important. So those are issues that need to be resolved.” His successor, Mark Darbon, has been equally measured, stating that the R&A are taking “a proper look” at bringing the Open Championship out of the UK for the first time in its history.

Time, at least, is on Portmarnock’s side. But time only helps if it’s used properly. Roads don’t widen themselves. Car parks don’t appear out of thin air. And even the most magnificent golf course in the world cannot conjure up public transport with a click of its fingers.

Portrush has shown what’s possible. The K Club has also shown the way. If Portmarnock is to join them, it will not be by accident. It’s not the bunkers that keep tournament organisers awake at night.