A Big Deal Hole-in-One
Today I got a hole in one from about 130 yards out. It’s not the first one I’d ever seen. That came about two years before when Michael, my brother-in-law, knocked one in from about 142 yards out. The bad thing—for us who played with him—is that he made it on the second hole. So for sixteen more holes we had to hear “Did I tell you about the time I made a hole in one?” But later those nearest and dearest to him humbled him back to earth. First he called his wife, Doris, and her first response was “So what did you win?” Nothing, he told her. “So what score did they give you?” He told her “one” as in hole-in-one. She simply said, “Oh.” Then he called his best friend, a golf pro at a club in Florida. Mark, the pro, wasn’t there, but his wife was. When she heard the news she asked, “So is that your first one?” Mike hung up and proceeded to remind us for the next sixteen holes about the time he got a hole-in-one.
Mine came just after midday. I knew it was a good shot the moment it sprang from the club head. When you hit the “sweet spot” there’s no better feeling. In fact, you hardly feel it at all. The ball shot off like an arrow, taking dead aim for the flag. It took one bounce, hit the flag stick and turned 90 degrees to drop in the hole. My first reaction was to find someone—a witness—with whom I could share this. But everyone was too busy working out his own bugs. Behind me a big guy swung so hard that three out of four times I’d shiver with every breeze-producing swing of his. In front of me a mild-mannered instructor was telling a young girl about the importance of keeping her back elbow tucked in close. I was surrounded by other golfers and buckets of golf balls, all working between the ropes so the Bermuda beyond the ropes could grow back and fill in the divots from earlier practice. I’d just hit my first hole-in-one and I was the only one who knew it. I would have run out to the hole and picked the ball from the cup, but on a driving range that could be dangerous.