ET's Info-Stew

It was a good day for some afternoon golf. Having rained for what seemed like two weeks straight, the clouds finally parted and it warmed up into the sixties. Two days earlier, we spent Saint Patrick's Day at Mema and Papa's, playing hours of poker. The next day, my upper back hurt but I still went to the range, having not hit a ball in weeks. It was a decent day at the range, only because I was out of practice. Later that night we went to a Saint Patrick's Day party thrown by a co-worker, though we didn't stay too late.

Sunday was a lazy day. I woke up around nine and made Jenny some breakfast. Soon after she left for the book-store to study for school. I stayed at home for a little while, planning to go to the driving range, and if the mood struck me, the course for a super-twilight round.

At the range my upper back still hurt from two nights past, but it wasn't unbearable. It was fairly windy, with wind coming from the west. I decided to hit a small bucket off the mats to warm up, and was feeling pretty good with how it was going. After a little pitching, hitting the remainder of my balls, and putting, I left for the Sunol Valley Golf Club, hoping to play as a single on the Cypress course at 3:30pm, when super-twilight starts for club members.

I got to the course a little early, so I practiced some lag putting until a few minutes before 3:30. I paid and headed down to the Cypress course where there was a bit of a line. Shortly after two people came down the hill to join me, a native Korean father John with his son, Kent, who was 11. When they saw the line, they decided to head over to the Palm course. My initial thought was to stay, but after looking over and seeing no line, I decided to move over to the Palm course. It turned out to be the right decision.

John and Kent were both pretty good golfers, and they were in a small competition. So to make things fair John played from the blues while Kent played from the reds. I did what I usually do and played from the whites. I was playing pretty decent. After the seventh hole I was at +1 over bogey (+8 over par), having hit bogey, bogey, par, double, double, bogey, bogey. I was playing average for my playing ability.

On the downhill 217 yard 8th hole, the wind had died down a bit, but it was still blowing from behind. The sun was just about 15 minutes from setting in the green hills to the west. The tee box was a few yards back from the tee yardage marker, but it turned out that the pin was in the front about the same distance from the center of the green. I pulled out the 3-wood, expecting a 210-yard shot, plus whatever the tailwind added.

The shot was well struck, flying a good trajectory of just the right height and I knew right away it was going to end up within chipping distance. It started off heading toward the right of the green, but then started to draw slightly back to the center. As I watched it go, I could tell that it was going to end up somewhere on the green. It bounced just short of the green and rolled on. From that distance, the ball looked like it was rolling in slow motion from right to left, going right for the pin. Finally, it rolled in line with the pin. But it didn't roll out the left side of the pin! Did I just get a hole-in-one? I wasn't sure, but I knew it was possible. I pulled out my cell phone and took a couple pictures, one of the yardage sign for the hole, and one of the view from the tee box (though the brightness of the sun washed this view out). I wanted to have the pictures, just in case.

It was a long walk up to the green. Only 150 yards left, and we still didn't see the ball. Now 100 yards...50 yards. No ball! John walked up and looked in. The ball was in the hole! Cell phone in hand, I walked up and took another picture with the ball in the hole. I pulled it out and walked over to my cart. After taking another crappy washed-out picture of my playing partners to help keep more details of the event, I dialed Cy immediately.

When he picked up and I told him of my feat, he understandably thought I was messing with him. I think I even heard an exclamation of surprise from Liz in the background. John offered to talk to him, and so I handed the phone over. John told him that I hit the hole-in-one with my 3-wood on the 217 yard par 3 8th hole of the Palm course at the Sunol Valley Golf Club. After some congratulations, I told Cy that I had to go to take some pictures, because I thought I had forgot to take the picture of the ball in the cup. So after John and Kent holed-out, I put the ball back in and took the picture again. I headed off to the 9th hole, but realized I left my prized ball in the hole, so I ran back for it. It turned out that I did save the first picture with the ball in the hole, so the second such picture is meaningless.

John mentioned that I now had to buy drinks at the clubhouse, but with my limited funds I said that I could only buy drinks for the three of us. On the 9th hole, John talked briefly about his 107 yard hole-in-one after twenty some odd years of playing. I finished with a double bogey on the 9th hole, after the sun had set. John and Kent had decided to call it a day, so in order to avoid having to buy them drinks, I cowardly continued on to the 10th hole, which I bogeyed.

I headed back to my car ecstatic, knowing I was now one of a small minority of people who could legitimately claim having hit a hole-in-one. It is obvious that luck is 99% of it. Sure I hit a good 3-wood, but if the wind blew just a little harder or the ball bounced just a little more to one side, it would have ended up as just a good shot.

I have the ball and will be keeping it forever. I wrote on it with a sharpie so that I can identify it later. I would also like to figure out how to get the pictures off the phone. Even with the ball, the pictures, John's testimony to Cy, and this story, there is no way to absolutely prove that I did make this hole in one to anyone but me, John, and Kent who I'll never see again. I didn't keep a scorecard because it was just a practice round, but that wouldn't prove anything either. Proof doesn't matter, though. All that matters is that I know what happened, and I hope that today is a day I'll never forget.