Whole New Ballgame

It’s Tuesday morning in a part of New Jersey that reminds you why they call it the Garden State—high corn and vineyards and roads dotted with vegetable stands, a pass-through corridor better known as the back way to the South Jersey Shore—and a three-time Major League Baseball MVP is trading surgery tales with a Super Bowl champion tight end in the kitchen. The conversation turns to whether AI will ever take over NFL play-calling (it probably won’t) and the best way to attack a Cover 2 defense, eventually landing on the subject the football player has come to investigate.

“This place looks insane,” he notes as he studies framed renderings of a future palatial clubhouse, a world-class learning center and on-course hangs that resemble five-star restaurants. 

There’s been a steady flow of professional athletes visiting this one-story house that serves as the temporary headquarters for a new golf vision in Millville (population 27,000). Its rooms have been converted into offices and a boardroom and a gallery showcasing what’s being built outside, and the kitchen has been carefully stocked with enough snacks and beverages to suggest they mean business. This is no small-time operation, and the boldness of the logo implies as much. Hanging large by the doorway, cut from dark metal, is a circle split by a T, with a golf flag on one side and baseball stitches on the other. The house won’t be here for long—as nicely as they’ve appointed it, they’ll bulldoze it to make room for a short course lit at night. (The range and practice areas will be lit as well.) A project as ambitious as Trout National needs all the space it can get. 

 A 70,000-square-foot clubhouse complete with bowling alley and barbershop, designed by award-winning architects Marsh & Associates, will overlook the practice course, dubbed the Bullpen. But the most popular spots might end up being the two sprawling comfort stations: the Dugout and Aaron’s. The Dugout has a  “Put me in, Coach” vibe, as you enter from one side, then climb steps out the other to emerge onto a playing field laid out by Tiger Woods’ TGR Design. Even the maintenance facility showcases uncommon attention to detail, with a dining area and locker-room setup to rival most member clubs and seemingly enough reels and tires to maintain Pinehurst Nos. 1 through 10. There’s a helipad, and lodges where tight bent grass will meet your patio door—shoes optional around here—and artfully precast walls surround the property in a way that makes it easy to forget where you are. And that’s just how Mike Trout wants it. 

The build-your-own-golf-paradise movement has been trending for a while, a response to the country club scene losing its luster for those who can afford their own golf-only playgrounds. The handpicked membership, no tee times, no pool or pickleball model at places like Ohoopee, Ladera and Grove XXIII now has top architects often working for clients who want exceptional, uncrowded golf built for an audience of a few dozen. Trout is that client in some ways; in others, he’s anything but.

The high school baseball field down the street has his name on it. He hasn’t relocated his family to Southern California, where he spends most of his year playing outfield for the Angels; rather, he still calls the Millville area home, the place where he grew up as a baseball prodigy and where he met his wife in high school. He fishes and hunts and keeps his backyard pond well stocked. (He spends hours with his 4-year-old, who prefers pulling out sunnies to bothering with bass.) He drives a pickup, not a Ferrari, to Trout National, and he plays most of his golf with his dad and brother at nearby Running Deer, a semi-private down the road. 

He hasn’t studied golf course architecture. He isn’t asking Woods and his team for a Redan. He isn’t funneling a lifetime of golf scholarship into a project he’s been dreaming of for decades, and he couldn’t care less about online hot takes on angles and bunkering. Rather, he wants to build an escape for people who could use one, and he knows quite a bit about that.

While he’s often described as the greatest baseball talent of his generation—some say ever—Trout’s playing career has seen its ups and downs. To go along with those three MVPs, he’s been an All-Star 11 times and, among active players, leads just about every hitting statistic. (He steals bases, too.) His $426 million deal with the Angels in 2019 was the richest-ever contract in North American sports at the time, and his skill set gets compared to Ted Williams and Mickey Mantle. Yet he’s been to only one postseason (2014) and has never won a playoff game. (That series was a Royals sweep over the Angels.) He’s battled injuries since 2019, and questions linger about whether he’ll return to form with five years left on his Angels contract. 

You won’t hear him on the podcast circuit or find him doing many interviews—he’s surely tired of questions about his health and whether he’ll ever play in a World Series. Spend some time in his company and it’s clear he’d prefer to just be playing ball. In the off-season, he’d sooner be at home, fishing with his kids or getting in nine with his golf-loving dad. Despite all the money and playing in the shadow of Hollywood, he’d always rather be the kid from Millville. So while other boutique builders have gone looking for sand hills or seaside, there was never any doubt where Trout would build his golf course, and it’s no surprise that its ethos is informed by a life lived in the spotlight by a person who doesn’t seek it. 

There are only two rules at Trout National: Enjoy yourself, and don’t detract from anyone else’s enjoyment. Golf purists might lift their noses at its luxuries: Your car disappears when you arrive, sent off for detailing and returned at departure. The spa and weight room rival NFL facilities, and an app will track you on property—not in an Orwellian sense, but so that you can have any item delivered or whim satisfied at the push of a button. 

As the golf world leans into a more minimalistic approach, Trout National is not interested in being precious. Trout comes off as modest and reserved, but such a grand property is still built in his image: someone who appreciates nice things but enjoys his privacy. And, as a professional athlete, Trout knows plenty who also fit that description. 

The small membership won’t be made up exclusively of sluggers and drop-back passers, but there will certainly be a few, and what they’ll find on the course is something that even purists will concede is special. Tiger’s emphasis on playability off the tee is evident, but just like at Payne’s Valley or Bluejack National, the green complexes are elaborate and humbling, with runoffs built to repel imprecision. The dirt moved for the retaining ponds has been shaped into hulking dunes that line several holes, and on its 90-yard par 3 (which follows a 525-yard par 4) there are echoes of the Dell at Lahinch, where a flip wedge never felt so menacing. 

The course unfolds in chapters, with three segments that can be played as their own routings. Aaron’s, a true hospitality oasis, anchors the back corner. It is named in honor of Trout’s best friend and brother-in-law, Aaron Cox, who took his own life at the age of 24, a loss that has inspired the Trout family to champion mental-health causes. The holes around Aaron’s include that bedeviling short par 3 and offer a secluded six-hole loop that plays as a retreat within a retreat, where privacy-seeking golfers might spend their whole weekend. It’s like going to a grand hotel but not wanting to leave the luxury of your suite. The idea behind Trout National is that you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to put on a tie for dinner or take off your hat in the clubhouse (unless you’re headed to the barbershop). It’s a place to play ball, and The Golfer’s Journal got rare access with one of the greatest players of all time to discuss the how, where and why of his golf course.

You play in California and raise your family in New Jersey. You could have built a golf course anywhere. Why Millville? 

I come from a small town, a place that’s a lot different than Anaheim, California. When I first came up out of high school and got drafted by the Angels, New Jersey was still home, and I always love coming back. The people are great, and there’s a special feeling to be able to bring something like this to where I grew up—to shine a little light on this part of a great state and do something exciting in my hometown. My dad can’t wait to get out here. I’ve got to lock the doors because he’s trying to get out here and play it before me. My partner in the project, John Ruga, is also from the area and has a deep, personal connection to Vineland. He’s committed to supporting the community and takes pride in giving back. Keeping this project rooted here is just as important to him as it is to me.

Did you consider any other designers for the golf course? 

I had one guy in mind, and that was Tiger. He’s the reason I got into golf. Watching him and the run he went on, his whole presence and the excitement he brings, watching him win the Masters—that was big for me growing up. But we’d never actually met until he came to visit the site here. I was just a fan, really. I talked to him on the phone a bit, but it wasn’t until we got him dialed in to do the project that he actually came out here and I met him for the first time. That was definitely a pinch-me moment, seeing him here, talking to him. I’ve met a lot of great people and celebrities, but Tiger and Denzel [Washington] are probably the two that were like, “Wow, this is really happening.” And my family got to be here and spend time with him. My son got to spend time with Tiger Woods in my hometown. That was very special for me. He’s been out here five times, and there couldn’t be a better person to build the course.

How did you get into golf? It looks like it’s going to be a big part of your life after baseball.

I’m from a big golf family. My dad plays a lot, and I picked it up in high school and just loved it. Then I got to play a lot in spring training and travel a lot and play courses around the country. As my baseball career went along, I had a talk with my wife, and I knew I wanted to do something on the golf side after I played [professional baseball]. I’ve signed two contracts and I still have five more years after this, but it’s gone by so fast. And when guys retire, they need something to do, so we wanted to plan ahead on what life after baseball looks like for me. I’m not close to being there yet, but projects like this, it takes years to get it established and get it right, so that’s why we started it now.

Why not just join a nice club instead of this giant undertaking?

I’ve been very fortunate in my career, and I had the opportunity to do a golf course the way I wanted it. I’ve played a lot of great courses and seen great places, so I could take things from the courses I liked and put it into this one. The biggest thing for me was that I wanted to create an escape and an atmosphere for athletes or for people who want that. We get so caught up nowadays—there’s a million things that are going on all the time—and I wanted a place where you [can] come through the gates and not worry about a thing. Just have fun, whether it’s playing 18 holes or spending the weekend. I want it to be a getaway where you’re not getting bothered. No cameras, you don’t have to worry about certain things. To just be able to escape from the outside world for a while, I know that’s huge for me and a lot of other athletes too.

A lot of baseball players get into golf, and a lot of them are good players. What’s the connection between golf and baseball for you?

When I first came up, you heard a lot of people say that golf could mess up your baseball swing. But I don’t think that’s the case. I remember playing in an Albert Pujols charity tournament during the season on an off day. I played 18 holes, and then the next day I hit for the cycle. So, ever since then, I was like, “Maybe golf helps me.” The two are very similar. When you’re snap hooking your driver, it’s the same feeling you have when you’re grounding out to shortstop or third. So when my swing didn’t feel right on the baseball field, if I was cutting off or chicken winging it, I felt the same thing in my golf swing, so golf could kind of tell me what I was doing wrong.

That back corner of the property is special. How did you decide to name the comfort station out there after your brother-in-law?

It was when we had the layout of the building plans and it was me, my wife, my brother and a few others. We were trying to figure out a name for it, and it just came to my attention that we were trying to create a hang with a good vibe, a place for people who want to have a good time. You can play some quick golf back there, four or five holes, then hang out and watch people hit into the peninsula green on eight and talk about those shots or maybe talk a little smack. So that’s why we named it after my brother-in-law. He brought life to the party. He loved golf and talked a lot of smack. It’s going to be cool to be able to spend some nights out there knowing that he’s going to be watching over us.