I’m writing this drunk.
It took forty-four FRIKKIN, FRACKIN (and that other F word) years but I finally got a Hole in One. I had given up hope. I’ve had to watch so many of my shots ALMOST GO IN that I deliberately stopped hoping.
How many, you ask? There was one that ended up, literally, half an inch from the hole. Then there was one where the stranger I was playing with started yelling, “that’s in the hole, that’s in the hole!” Nope. Once, on my all-time favorite hole, the 8th at Bethpage Black, we were all yelling, “Go in!! Go in!!! Son-of-a……”
And how could I forget the time I hit a shot to a green that wasn’t visible. Friends were near the green watching, so while I couldn’t see my ball, I could hear them, thus making this particular episode of misery audial […]