My name is Josh Price. I am (now) 25 years old, born in Atlanta, Georgia, and raised in Nashville, Tennessee. Growing up, I was involved in just about everything. I played everything: baseball, basketball, soccer, and golf. I participated in the Boy Scouts of America and school clubs. I also spent more time at church than I probably understood the value of at the time. I was always moving, always busy, and always curious, drawn equally to competition, structure, and the great outdoors. My family originates from Alabama. This made my decision to attend the University of Tennessee, a black sheep of the family, a title I wear proudly (GBO). Knoxville felt like a step toward independence, both geographically and creatively. In high school, I chose CAD and drafting class course that I took every day for four years. I often found myself more engaged in drawing plans, and solving spatial problems interested me more than anything else on my schedule. There was something deeply satisfying about translating ideas into lines. The transformation of lines into places or things. Then eventually the things become products. It was about understanding how land, form, and intention shape experience. I knew early on that I would end up in the design world. Even if the exact path was unclear, I was certain of my destination. Being accepted into Tennessee’s College of Architecture and Design was a huge step toward that professional dream. In many ways, it confirmed the instincts I had been pursuing for years. At the time, I didn’t yet realize how fully those instincts—design, landscape, passion, and time spent outdoors—would converge. But I am now beyond grateful for trusting those instincts.

Golf was part of my life before I ever had a choice in the matter. My dad brought a golf club to the delivery room the day I was born. This detail feels less symbolic and more inevitable with time. He was a +4 handicap coming out of high school, good enough to seriously consider a future in the game. He turned down multiple scholarship opportunities and attempted to walk on at the University of Alabama. He was chasing the belief that professional golf is still within reach. Eventually, reality set in. The dream of playing professionally gave way to something more lasting. It became a deep, genuine love for the game itself without the stress of competition and performance.

I played golf on and off as a kid, never fully committing to it the way I did other sports. In high school, I joined the golf team, and Dad became one of our coaches. That’s when something shifted. That’s when my own obsession began to take shape. Practices turned into quality (and sometimes not-so-quality) time with Dad, rounds became lessons, and the golf course slowly transformed from a place I always wanted to be at. Playing under my dad’s guidance—now as a coach rather than just a parent—deepened my respect for the game. It also enhanced my appreciation for the knowledge and skill he had developed over the course of his life. From that point onward, golf was no longer something I did occasionally; it became something I tried to do every chance I got. Now I was nowhere close to being as good as my dad at that age, and it was clear that my professional life would be behind a desk somewhere. I was okay with that. I knew my passion for design would take me somewhere. Besides, when a 12-year-old knows he wants to go to architecture school, it’s hard to deny his intuition.

So how did I end up working for world-renowned golf course architect Tom Fazio? God’s timing is really the only answer there. As I moved deeper into architecture school, I began to feel increasingly disillusioned with the traditional architectural path. The professional horror stories—burnout, long hours, and creative compromise—started to outweigh the excitement that initially drew me in. At the same time, I wasn’t ready to abandon design altogether. Graduate school in landscape architecture felt like the right next step. The dual-degree program added an extra year to the five I was already committed to and also gave me something I desperately needed: time. Time to think, to breathe, and to figure out what I actually wanted my life and career to look like.

My dad first suggested it: golf course architecture. It was a discipline that sat perfectly at the intersection of everything I loved: golf, landscapes, and design. What started as a simple conversation quickly became a serious pursuit. I secured a winter internship with Richard Mandell in Pinehurst, NC, which opened my eyes to what the profession truly was. It showed me the reality not just in theory but in practice too. Encouraged by that experience, I sent emails—bold, hopeful, and unapologetic—to nearly every top golf course architect I knew of. One of those emails landed at exactly the right time Fazio Design was in the midst of a company transition. The timing aligned almost perfectly with my graduation. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. Looking back now, it’s hard to see it as anything other than a door opened by my God. What felt uncertain and disjointed at the time has shown itself to be a clear path. It was an intentional path shaped by patience, persistence, and timing far better than my own.

Golf has been the constant thread through every chapter of my life. Even when I didn’t realize it, it was guiding me. The game started with a club in the delivery room. It continued with afternoons and late evenings with my dad. It extended to long walks observing the land and its intentions. The game has shaped how I see the world and my place in it. What began as time spent together slowly became a lens through which I understand design, patience, and purpose. This blog exists as a place to explore that intersection. It aims to talk honestly about the game of golf. Bask in the environments and landscapes it rests in. The reflection on the people and moments that give it meaning. Some posts will be personal, others technical, and many will fall somewhere in between. My hope is that you’ll find something here that resonates with you. Whether you care deeply about golf course architecture or simply love the game itself, I hope you return. At the very least, I hope it encourages you to slow down, look around, and appreciate the ground beneath your feet.