First Ever

 

I took a trip to the desert this week. With highs topping out in Helena in the single digits, it was time for this bird to head south. 

In the past, I've traveled down to Mesquite, NV for a break from the cold and snow but this year I had the opportunity to reconnect with some fellas in Lake Havasu City, AZ so a few more hours on the road would be worth it and would also save me a few bucks by staying at their Airbnb. The golfing is similar in that it's the dessert in winter. The greens are green, and the fairways are brownish with a green tint to most of it and shorts are the expected attire in mid-day but cooer in the mornings. My golf game is going to suck but every time I send one off into the mesquite, all I have to do is look at my short sleeves and be grateful for the sun. 

I arrived in Lake Havasu Friday evening after leaving at 5am from my garage in Helena. I stopped twice for gas along the 15 plus hour trip. Saturday morning, I woke up after drinking two bottles of wine with Pat Hunter, one of the fellas I came down to see. We solved all the world's problems as we rounded the corner on bottle two. I was still a little numb from the drive and the wine and decided to shake it off with a quick round at the local club. 

It's always a little intimidating, walking into a golf course pro-shop you're not familiar with the first time, trying to figure you way around the club house and restaurant and then there's the guy sitting at the till taking money. All these rich old people who probably golf 200 rounds a year staring at you...kind of like a client walking into a fly shop the first time looking for his/her guide. I always try to make those people feel welcome because I remember my first time at a shop looking for some intel when I started fly fishing. Let me just say, some fly-fishing dudes are dickholes. Just because you can throw a tight loop into a 20-mph wind and hit a target the size of a coffee can at forty feet doesn't make you special, any more than stroking a 110-yard wedge and backing it up to about five feet from the pin...actually, both are pretty cool so maybe you are special. However, your shit stinks just like everyone else's. 

The reality on the golf course is that most of us are hacks and the intimidation comes more from my own insecurities than from any outward display from anyone either at the clubhouse or on the course. I've learned over the years, that can hold my own on the course and generally, showing a little humility and a sense of humor after snap hooking a drive into someone's back yard goes a long way. That and a good understanding of golf etiquette. 

Having said that, I did opt to golf by myself that first round. I just wanted to get a good lay of the land by struggling through a round on my own before I was to put my silky-smooth swing on display. That was a decision I now regret. 

I tee'd off on the first hole and was pleased to pipe one right down the middle. I left my towel in the bucket on the tee-box, so I drove back to get it after hitting my second shot. Three guys were about to tee off. When I asked if they wanted to join me, they suggested I go on by myself as I would be a lot faster alone. 

On the third hole, I caught the group in front on me. Like good, conscientious golfers do, they let me play through. They already had their four-sum, so I cruised on through. I stroked another drive down the pipe, screwed up my second shot, and then chipped up and two-putted. I then walked on to hole number five. A 190-yard par three. 

The pin was left center of the green, water on the left. Anything short and left would be wet. Sand in the back and the wind was down. This would be an easy 5-iron. Don't even think about the water. 

I dug a broken tee out of a divot on the tee box and drove it into the ground and placed my ball on it so that there was sliver of daylight between the ball and the grass. I had been pulling my irons a bit on the range, so I lined up just a little right of the pin. I slid my Mizuno blade behind the ball and then pulled my club into my backswing, paused for less than a millisecond, and stepped on the gas, accelerating through the ball. The click of a solid strike on the ball, a full follow through and pose and I watched the ball sore to its apex and then drift slightly right to left. 

"That felt good," I thought as I fought the sun to trace the ball's path directly at the pin. 

The ball plopped down onto the green about 15 feet short of the pin with a splash of sand. With the sheen on the green and the sun in just the wrong spot, I lost my ball after the sand settle back onto the green. But it looked good, so I slid my club back into its place in my bag and jumped into the driver's side of the cart and stomped on the pedal. 

As I approached the green on the left down the cart path, I looked hard to see where I ended up. It looked good but I couldn't find my ball on the green. 

"Damn," I thought. "Did I sail it through the green?"

I walked around the cart, grabbed my sand wedge and putter and started to the back of the green where the sand trap laid. But something told me to check the hole, so I circled back and no shit, as I got close enough to see the bottom of the cup, there was my Callaway. Just sitting there in the bottom of the hole hiding from me. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said out loud. "Did anyone see that?"

I spun around with my arms opened up wide as to give anyone within earshot a big hug, but nobody was there. I looked up into the decks that stretched out of the houses that lined the ridge above the hole and saw one dude sitting out on a lawn chair about 75 yards away. 

"Dude! Did you see that?" I yelled?

He didn't even look down at me. It was like I wasn't even there. 

"You've got to be kidding me!" I declared. I've been golfing 30 years and have never hit a hole-in-one and now I do and nobody witnessed it? I didn't even get to see it drop in the hole!

Whelp? I'm going golfing again tomorrow with some folks I met from Minnesota. Maybe the next one won't take another 30 years. Maybe it will be tomorrow. 

Keep 'em where they live...