In case it wasn’t clear, this isn’t a roast. It’s an ode. Greenlake’s surface-level blemishes are part and parcel to its enduring charm and to its vaunted status: this is Seattle’s most beloved golf course. By leaning into its quirks, Greenlake offers a refreshing conception of golf as a casual, inclusive, and affordable pastime. (Last summer it raised its adult green fees to $9.) Greenlake is more than a compelling model for golf’s uncertain future — it exposes golf’s potential to shed its reputation as a bastion for the wealthy and become a true sport of the people.

The walk from 3 to 4 is often treacherously water-logged, the course’s lone hazard is a random mountain of sand that solemnly guards the 5th tee, and on 2 and 9, preternaturally long branches stretch out over the fairway, ready to swat balls like Dikembe Mutombo. Greenlake caters to novices — from college students armed with Rainier-filled backpacks to sprawling families — which means that at any given moment, you could find yourself in the path of a careening shank unaccompanied by a portentous “fore!”

On a six-acre plot in the north end of Seattle, the nine-hole, 705-yard Greenlake Pitch and Putt is a shaggy arcadia. Rock-hard splotches of dirt creep from the tee boxes into the fairways. Uncommonly slow greens bring Velcro to mind. The holes (officially ranging from 60 to 115 yards) aren’t as long as the signs say they are.

Let me admit my own bias. Greenlake was an important part of my life during my formative years, when two rounds for a junior came out to $6 on a summer weekday. Greenlake was like my basement, but outside. It was a sanctuary where I could hang with friends away from my parents’ watchful eyes. It was also my entry point into gambling; many a tie was settled on the putting green with a bag of Doritos or next round’s greens fee on the line. A good score had the potential to qualify for Greenlake’s end-of-year tournament, where every September us mortals had the opportunity to vie for eternal glory, and also to bear witness to Greenlake legends like Lane Himmelman, who holds the unofficial course record of 19 (!).

“Our whole summer was building up to the Greenlake tournament,” remembers Carson Dunn, 28, a long-time patron of the course. Dunn claims that he is still haunted by his “tragic collapse” in the 2007 junior tournament, in which he missed a four-foot putt on the final hole to drop into a tie for first — and lost in the ensuing playoff.

Earlier this year, in March, Greenlake kicked off its 71st season. For the last 36 years, the course has been run by Dione Taitch and her mother, Marlene, who lease the property from the city parks department for a percentage. Taitch describes the course as being “run-down” when they took over in the ’80s. They have instituted the annual tournament, planted two trees, and spruced up various aspects of the operation, but the overall infrastructure has remained the same under their tenure: a 16’x24’ clubhouse, maintenance shed, putting green, and a couple of picnic tables. “We only started taking credit cards, like, 10 years ago, we still don’t have Wi-Fi, and nothing’s computerized,” she says. “And there are other things that are kind of old school — but they work for us.”

As a standalone short course, Greenlake faces a series of unique obstacles. Taitch talks about Greenlake’s low-tech aspects with an aw-shucks humility, but the lack of structural change suggests that the course generates, at best, a modest cash flow and does not receive significant investment from the city. Most pitch and putts, par-3 courses, and executive courses are a part of larger golf facilities that don’t rely on them to produce the lion’s share of their income. This isn’t the case with Greenlake, a seasonal, family-run operation that has never employed more than 10 people and has one person on shift in the clubhouse at any given time. Taitch and her mother are jacks-of-all-trades by necessity. “I went to school for accounting, and then thought, ‘I don’t want to be an accountant,’” Taitch says. “And then I end up doing a lot of the accounting, but I also go out and mow the greens with the best of ’em.”