The New Reality for Topgolf: Less Novelty, More Competition

For years, Topgolf was the crown jewel of social sports entertainment. It blended the energy of a nightclub with the accessibility of an arcade and wrapped it all around golf. Neon-lit targets, booming music, and cocktail trays created a magnetic pull for anyone who wanted a night out that felt equal parts athletic and indulgent. But like any business built on novelty, the question eventually comes: what happens when the glow wears off?

The reality is that Topgolf is no longer the rocket ship it was in its early days. The sizzle is cooling in some cities, repeat visits are softening, and alternatives are multiplying. That means maturation. Topgolf still delivers fun, but it’s now part of a crowded field, not the only game in town.

The Rise That Rewrote Golf Nightlife

Topgolf’s initial surge came from three powerful drivers: novelty, inclusivity, and social media. It took golf out of the country club and into a vibrant, welcoming format. Groups shared bays, games rewarded both skill and luck, and the selfie backdrop sold itself. Post-pandemic, the timing was perfect. People wanted outdoor-ish, semi-distanced experiences, and companies craved simple team-building events. Impulse was everywhere, and Topgolf captured it.

But novelty has a shelf life. Once the experience becomes familiar, it shifts from a must-do event to just another option among many. And now, the list of competitors is long: pickleball clubs, simulator bars, bowling lounges, ax-throwing spots, upgraded mini-golf, and traditional ranges equipped with Toptracer technology.

Topgolf never catered to hardcore golfers, but they helped build its early buzz. Over time, many realized the practice value was limited. The balls are flighted, the mats are standard, and the scoring system rewards fun, not precision. Add in the hourly bay costs and it became clear that a Toptracer-equipped public range offered more value for golfers who wanted to grind. For them, the nightclub vibe and shared bay format felt more like a distraction than a training tool.

That quiet exodus trimmed steady repeat visits, the very type of customer who spends consistently. Recreational groups still show up, but they feel the pinch of rising prices, fees, and the wait-time dance of peak hours.

A two-hour outing for four people can rival the price of a nice dinner. Membership fees, deposits, service charges, and tips stack on top of bay rates. Meanwhile, pre-booking comes at a premium, turning what should be a relaxed outing into a clock-watching exercise. The food and games deliver fun, but they don’t always deliver freshness. Without new modes or rotating challenges, guests start to feel they’ve “done Topgolf.”

On the operations side, consistency is difficult to maintain. Big venues juggling food, drinks, and tech-heavy golf bays are prone to bottlenecks. A late food order or a malfunctioning screen can sour the night. Add viral clips of rowdy behavior and the perception problem grows. Families ask if it’s still for them. Companies wonder if it feels classy enough for client events. Perception drives purchase, and right now, that perception varies widely.

Economics and Shifting Demographics

Running a Topgolf isn’t cheap. Climate-controlled bays, massive nets, heating and cooling systems, staff wages, and food costs all squeeze margins. Expansion slowed as construction inflation and higher interest rates stretched payback periods. The demographics are shifting too. Gen Z and younger millennials still chase experiences, but they’re more price sensitive, more sober-curious, and quicker to rotate between social activities.

Meanwhile, golf itself became cooler again. Many casual players graduated from Topgolf into nine-hole twilight rounds, community leagues, and upgraded ranges. Corporate events, once bulletproof, softened as companies tightened travel budgets and explored alternative team-building formats.

When Topgolf launched, it was the only place where non-golfers could smack a ball and instantly see gamified feedback. That exclusivity is gone. Traditional ranges now license Toptracer, sometimes from Topgolf itself, while simulators offer detailed stats and league play at lower costs. The “share factor” has also diminished. A glowing target under city lights was once catnip for Instagram, but today, it doesn’t move the algorithm the way it used to.

The kitchen, once an accessory to the golf, is now a core part of the value equation. Guests benchmark Topgolf against mid-tier restaurants. If the food feels average but the price feels premium, patience wears thin. Combine that with rising service fees and more posted rules, and the atmosphere feels more transactional than it once did.

So is Topgolf fading away? Not quite. Think of it less as decline and more as a reset. Topgolf still owns Friday night in many markets, but it no longer wins every Friday night, and it has to fight harder for Wednesday. The next chapter depends on whether Topgolf can reimagine itself for today’s market realities.

That means curating experiences, not just opening new venues. Off-peak discounts, family bundles, and student nights can counter the “too pricey” narrative. Fresh game modes, seasonal challenges, and branded crossovers can reintroduce novelty. Segmenting the day into family-friendly hours, after-work league play, and late-night party zones could help each audience feel seen. And if the food earns its price, consistently, it becomes easier for guests to justify the total spend.

Topgolf’s early magic hasn’t vanished, but it now shares the stage with dozens of alternatives. The key to the future is strategy.

Price must match experience, games must evolve, and every audience must feel welcomed. On the right night, with the right group, the magic still delivers: a ball rising into the lights, a target glowing, friends laughing, and the scoreboard turning a swing into a memory.

That communal thrill is still there. The question is whether Topgolf can refresh it often enough to keep people coming back.