Every summer, the quiet seaside town of Hastings becomes the epicentre of something truly unique—the World Crazy Golf Championships, held at the renowned Hastings Adventure Golf. Spread across three beautifully maintained mini-golf courses (considered among the best in the UK, I’m told), players from around the globe come to battle it out in a tournament that’s as competitive as it is fun.
This year’s field included players from America, Scotland, Hungary, Wales, Ireland, and of course, England—with both novices and professionals competing in various categories. Events kicked off on Friday with the team competition, ladies, junior, and novice warm-ups, followed by the main event over the weekend.
As a tour professional, I arrived thinking: “This is putting—this should be easy.” Oh, how wrong I was.
Welcome to the Wild World of Crazy Golf
Even on the first practice day, I realised I was in unfamiliar territory. Looking around, I saw techniques that would make a PGA instructor faint. Players were using putters with rubber pads on the faces to dampen bounce. On straight, simple-looking putts, competitors would intentionally bounce the ball off side walls—on purpose!—to improve their chances of holing out.
While I was busy trying to read breaks and avoid walls (like a proper golfer), it quickly became clear: I was the odd one out in the crazy golf world.
A Masterclass from Crazy Golf Royalty
During one practice session, two Americans noticed me struggling with my regular putter and kindly took me under their wing. We spent nearly three hours together, where they introduced me to the dark arts of elite crazy golf.
One of them, Rainey Statum, turned out to be mini golf royalty—a World Crazy Golf Hall of Famer, multiple-time US Champion, and beloved figure in the sport. He flew in from Houston, Texas, and embodied true Southern hospitality, even while watching me hopelessly miss bank shots. He also works at the same golf club where the movie Tin Cup was filmed—somehow making my misadventures even more cinematic.
The other American, Bryan, has worked as a production manager for some huge names in the music industry. He offered fantastic insight into life on the mini golf tour, blending a world of global music events with the wonderfully eccentric rhythm of crazy golf.
Despite their generosity and wisdom, I stubbornly stuck to my “real golf” technique. “Surely I can win this doing it my way,” I thought. Again—wrong.
Saturday: The Novice Battle Begins
The opening day featured three crazy golf rounds. I carded 30, 37, and 35, which was enough to squeak me into the Novice Final. There, I posted a 32, losing by a single shot. Ouch. Turns out, this game is harder than it looks—especially if you don’t use the walls.
The crowds were plentiful and incredibly supportive. People gathered around the course all day, and cheers echoed for anyone sinking a great ace. The vibe was equal parts funfair and pressure cooker, and the energy kept everyone engaged.
Sunday: If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them!
Sunday brought more consistency from me: 35, 32, 33, which pushed me into the Professional Final (though I was never near the top of the leaderboard). But more importantly, Sunday brought an epiphany. I finally embraced the wall shots—the same banked approaches the Americans had shown me in practice. I committed to using them wherever possible, and it paid dividends. My putting became more confident, and I felt like I was finally playing the game the way it was meant to be played.
I stayed to watch the final groups unfold—and it was electric. In the final, players could either bump an opponent’s ball out of the way or take the gentleman’s route and find an alternative line. A local legend and friend, Murray Thompson, fired an outrageous 29 in the final round, narrowly losing out to Marc Chapman, who claimed his fifth world title.
I finished 15th overall out of 240 players—respectable, but nowhere near where my ego told me I’d land.
Pints and Perspective
That evening, I returned the favour and met the American crew and local Hastings mini golf aficionado Nick Harman at a classic British pub. It was Rainey’s birthday, so we enjoyed some refreshments, swapped stories about tours, travels, and our cultures’ very different views on golf (crazy or otherwise). There’s something universal about shared passion and a pub.
The whole weekend reminded me of one of the best parts of running a golf school: meeting new people every week, each with their own story and their own swing to work with. It keeps things fresh, challenging, and rewarding.
Lessons Learned
I’ve played on the DP World Tour and stood over putts worth thousands. But I can honestly say, I felt just as nervous during that weekend in Hastings—surrounded by crowds, cheered on by locals, and (quietly) expected to win.
The hospitality I received from the crazy golf community—players, organisers, and veterans of the tour—was absolutely first-class. Everyone was welcoming, patient, and more than happy to help me understand the rules and customs of their world.
The big takeaway? Crazy golf is not just fun. It’s a legitimate sport with its own tactics, skillset, and pressure. More importantly, it reinforced a coaching truth I hold dear:
“Coach the individual, not the textbook.”
I saw people making putts with techniques no PGA manual would allow—but they worked. Because they were tailored, practiced, and owned by the individual.
What’s Next?
I’ve now signed up for the World Adventure Golf Masters in September, held on the Pirate Course in Hastings. This one has an even stranger twist: players bring different balls for different holes—some bouncy, some dead, some heavy, and (allegedly) even a glass ball. Think squash balls meets snooker. I’m sure it’ll be another humbling ride.
But I’m hooked. I’ll keep showing up, learning, and yes—bouncing the ball off a wall or two.
If you’re a golfer or even just someone who likes a bit of competition, I highly recommend entering next year. It’s inclusive, brilliantly organised, and packed with fun, strange, and lovely people. Plus, you get 50% off food and drink at the venue, which is a win in itself.
Until next time,
David Wicks