I really dislike playing "residential" golf -- those courses developed through large, expensive home sites with more man-made structures than trees.

I live near Louisville and I've been lucky enough to play many of the more upscale, private clubs through friends and business contacts. When driving through the many golf course developments, I'm always amazed at the amount of wealth that exists. I've often thought about knocking on one of the doors and asking the person at home what they do for a living, and if they're hiring. Not that I've ever been inspired to be wealthy and to live in such a manner -- I'm content with my job, my income, my life -- I'm just curious as to how so much can be maintained by so many.

One example is Lake Forest CC on Louisville's east end. Just a few miles from Valhalla (home to this year's Ryder Cup), the course is an Arnold Palmer design that winds through what seems an endless number of upscale homes. From the main road, the development doesn't appear all that substantial, but cruising through it is overwhelming. The houses just go on and on. Beautiful homes to say the least, but like many of these developments, they seem a little too tightly spaced, some so close only a few lawn mower swipes separate them.

The course itself is a nice layout -- challenging, requiring you to play every club in your bag. Lake Forest would make my personal top 10 list ... if I could have the course picked up and moved elsewhere. For me, the homes surrounding the course are just too approaching to enjoy the golf. I'm a pretty decent player and regularly keep the ball within the designated confines, but throw in some high-dollar properties in place of good old trees and bushes, and I'm a nervous wreck. I've scored big both times I played Lake Forest because I just couldn't get myself to release the golf club. It was pull hook after pull hook off the tee. It's one thing to shove a drive into some out-of-the-way woods, it's another to ruin somebody's afternoon by knocking the glass out of their bay window, or pinging their kid in the noggin with a stray Noodle while they're flippin' on their trampoline.

The danger is most eminent on Hole 10, a respectable Par 4. A lake runs along the left side of the fairway, jetting out away from the tee the further left it goes. The green is elevated -- wide, and not very deep. The pin position really does determine the best approach, so the tee shot is critical, requiring both length and accuracy, especially if you challenge the lake to the left. The problem, however, lurks to the right, for all along that side are homes located just several feet from the cart path and out-of-bounds. It's one in particular that catches the eye and creates negative swing thoughts -- a three story monster abode that has to be worth well over $1 million (even in the current market). It has two walkout decks, not including the ground-level patio. What's most noticeable is the safety nets that rise to the home's height, the same netting you see protecting most driving ranges. To state the obvious, I would think it would be a bit of an eyesore, which leads to an obvious question -- Why would someone build a home there, especially one that pricey?

Statistically speaking, by simple process of elimination, I guess someone would have to live there, and that answers the question. You just have to wonder if the owner has ever heard the word "slice," other than referencing bread, pizza or OJ Simpson. Heck, even Tiger, our planet's best, errs to the right.

Another private course I play several times each year is Glenmary CC, located south of Louisville. Glenmary was built on a gorgeous piece of land that I remember passing by when I was a kid. The original home -- what's now the clubhouse -- sat far back off the main road, the long drive framed by majestic trees. It was a unique, traditional place in the area, and one of the first to be transformed into a residential golf community. The layout is relatively short for today's standards, especially the back nine. A few of the par fours are nearly drivable, and one of the par fives is easily reachable for even short hitters.

The most distinguishing feature of Glenmary are the very close houses -- they are creepy close in places. Last year, when playing with my buddy Dewayne -- the big hittin' lefty -- his opening drive was a wicked pull that was stopped by the sound of denting aluminum. His ball caught the downspout of a resident's gutter, resulting in a very loud "pow." Dewayne promptly took his mulligan, which found the playable part of the course, and being the frugal (and brave) person that he is, couldn't resist trying to find his first salvo in the victim's backyard. Luckily, the residents were not at home, but upon arriving at the scene, Dewayne found not his ball, only an angry neighbor pacing around the area while calling the pro shop to report Dewayne's crime. Dewayne was not the downspout's first offender -- there were four dents total (distinctly golf ball made) -- so there was no real evidence that Dewayne's shot caused damage. Our foursome hurriedly hit our approach shots, putted out and shot over to the next tee. Happily, no one from the pro shop followed up on the complaint. They probably thought the same thing we did -- "Hey, dude, you live on a golf course. Get over it."

The worst I've seen is Crosswinds GC in Bowling Green, Ky. A municipal facility operated by the city, playing this course activated my claustrophobia -- I felt like I was playing indoors, surrounded by walls. Simply put, people living "on the course" actually do. The eighth hole -- over 400 yards from the whites -- is a dogleg left Par 4. Sitting directly in the dogleg is some naive king's castle. You can only see the roof of the home from the tee box because of a large wooden fence that separates the course from the residential community, but it literally sits right in the dogleg. The funniest thing is the tee marker. Other than the typical info -- par, schematic, distance -- at the bottom is a special sign demanding that players not aim at the house to cut off the dogleg and aim only for the fairway as designed. I've never seen such a sign on a golf course, a sign that certainly wouldn't have been necessary if the course architect and the housing developer maybe met for lunch a few times prior to each starting up their dozers. It was crazy. And of course, to meet their demands, I pushed my drive way right and turned it into a Par 5 -- which I wish it was as to only have bogied (translation, I made 6).

I plan to start a blog on this subject -- residential golf is kind of my pet peeve. I understand the need, making the best use of the land, maximizing profits and all that stuff, I just don't have to like it. I know, I know -- I don't have to play there, either. But, statistically speaking, somebody has to.