An enduring admiration: Exploring the deep connection between the iconic Emirates Golf Club and a Khaleej Times writer

When I first arrived in the UAE in the early 1990s, to work as a Sports Reporter, one of the first places I visited was the Emirates Golf Club where the Hero Dubai Desert Classic (then Dubai Desert Classic) was being held.

Nothing could have prepared me for that day. Northing. I was completely taken aback by what I saw. As my fourth-generation Toyota Cressida taxi dropped me off at the venue I was confronted by the imposing clubhouse. My jaw dropped. I was instantly struck by the sheer grandeur and majesty of the architectural tent-like structures standing in front of me guarding the historic golf course - the first all-grass championship golf course in the Middle East which opened in 1988.

Styled like traditional Bedouin tents, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before in my life (only years later the Dubai Creek Golf Club, Burj Al Al Arab, Burj Khalifa and Atlantis would rival that experience).

The stunning clubhouse, which housed fine-dining restaurants, a pro shop, a gym and state-of-the-art dressing rooms, stood heroically on an elevated piece of land as if inviting admiration for its architectural brilliance.

Even today, 32 years later, I still pause to admire the structure that remains one of the most iconic golf clubhouses in the world, and my all-time favourite.

The architecture was so remarkable that the clubhouse did not require revamping or renovation. It is fully equipped with a Royal Majlis, The Pavilion, Royal Majlis Garden, Pool Terrace, Pro Shop, Player’s Lounge, and Spike Bar.

Every year I return to the Emirates Golf Club, I’m still in awe of the unique structure of the clubhouse, a constant reminder of how it serves as a poignant bridge between modern Dubai and its traditional Middle Eastern roots.

On that landmark day, I arrived somewhat nervous, but excited, at what might be. I collected my media badge from the purpose-built Media Tent, close by and headed to a vantage point from where I could see the ninth and history-landed 18th green which has been witness to both unrivalled joy and equal heartache.

The year was 1992 when the mercurial Spaniard Seve Ballesteros defeated Northern Ireland’s Ronan Rafferty in a pulsating play-off to become only the third man to receive the giant Coffee Pot trophy from Sheikh Butti Al Maktoum.

That year, I was there purely as a spectator to watch some of the game greats take on the intimidating Karl Litten-designed golf course, an ocean of pristine Bermuda grass which seemed that every single blade was manicured with the professionalism of a hair stylist’s texturizing scissors.

I realized I had fallen in love with the golf course, the clubhouse, the game, Dubai, and my profession, which would soon take me on a whirlwind journey, around the world.

Of course, it wasn’t my first experience with golf. I had covered the sport back in my native India, reporting on tournaments at the historic Royal Calcutta Golf Club—one of the world’s oldest—along with Delhi Golf Club, Madras Gymkhana Club, the scenic Gulmarg Golf Club in Kashmir, and naturally, Bangalore Golf Club in my hometown.