Over the years, I have watched probably thousands of hours of golf tournaments on the golf channel and I've actually been to a couple championship tournaments. It's been fun. I've always found a player I could root for.
I have been a golf widow at least one weekend a year for the past twenty years when my hubby has gone off on his "Mancation" with a group of buddies. They all play an ungodly amount of golf for three days. When he returns home he tells me all the crazy stories from the trip.
But, even though I supported his love for the sport, I still had this nagging thought inside me that I was somehow not connecting with a very important aspect of his life. Don't get me wrong, we do other things together, but I just didn't feel like I shared in the one thing that he enjoyed the most. So, I decided to try it.
I took some lessons and started hitting balls at the driving range. I stunk it up pretty bad but I kept going. For an entire summer and into the fall I made it a point to hit balls at least once a week at the range.
Finally, he took me out to a practice course to see how I was doing. He made me so nervous that I failed at every turn which sent me back to the driving range.
He took me to a few more easy courses and every once in a while I would nail a good shot but for the most part, I still stunk. I wanted so bad to impress him that I talked myself into a tizzy and would hit it off into the wild blue yonder or barely get it off the tee.
So after the weather turned cold I stopped practicing and when spring came around I had all but forgotten about playing until a friend invited us to go out and play sometime. My stomach clenched at the idea. She had had lessons and she was playing regularly and I hadn't picked a club up in months. I wanted to go but I just knew I would embarrass myself.
When she mentioned it again a few weeks later I decided this might actually happen and I better get to practicing. I made it a point to head out to the driving range again and started hitting balls. At that point, I KNEW I would embarrass myself but a little voice inside me said, "Who cares, it's just a game." The thing is, when I picked the clubs up again, I realized, I kind of enjoyed it, especially when I made that perfect connection(which lets face it, wasn't too often.)
The next time we were at dinner together we decided to play a round at a local par three course. It was going to be my hubby against my friend and I playing best ball. Her hubby was going to be the "Official."
My nerves were on high alert when we got to the course. I was excited but I also had no idea how well she could play and the last thing I wanted to do was slow everyone down trying to find my ball that I hit somewhere out in the boondocks.
When she teed off, she hit a pretty good drive and my nerves kicked up a few notches. I teed my ball up and went through my routine to get my form right and swung. To my happy surprise I actually hit a decent drive. Of course, my brain kept telling me, that was probably the last of the good shots.
But although I did have some definite flubs, I hit some good shots and started to relax and enjoy playing after about the third or fourth hole.
We got to hole number twelve and I would like to tell you it was a par 3, 112 yards with a dogleg off to the right and the pin at the back of the green. But in all honesty, I haven't a clue what it looked like. If you asked my hubby he could probably give you every aspect of the hole including where the sprinklers were located.
I hit my drive and it looked pretty decent. I thought it might have gone a little long and probably went over the green, but how far I didn't know. As we approached the green, I found out I was only about four feet from the pin! If I were able to somehow get the ball into the cup, I would get a birdie. One under the allotted number of ball strikes for the hole, for those of you who don't play golf. So, I lined up my putter, said a little prayer and lightly tapped the ball and low and behold, that ball rolled right into the cup. I jumped and screamed and did everything you probably aren't supposed to do in the very proper game of golf. Of course, we were way behind my avid golfing husband in the overall score but I didn't care because he got a par on the hole and I got a birdie. I BEAT HIM!
So, on to the next hole. Hole number thirteen. Nothing good could ever come from playing on hole thirteen. It's got bad juju. But, I lined up my drive and took a whack and it shot off like a bullet. It didn't have any loft like it was supposed to so after a short distance it hit the ground and started to roll. I watched it for a moment then lost site of it. It looked like it was going straight at least. My friend hit her ball and then my husband and off we went looking for our balls except mine was nowhere to be found. I looked all over and there was no sign of it. After a little bit we decided to go ahead and play my friends. My hubby's was already on the green so my friend and I took turns hitting the ball until we managed to get to the green. We were already laying up four shots before we ever even got close to the cup.
My husband was up to putt. I continued to wonder where my ball had gone off to. It really did look like it was rolling toward the green the last time I saw it. I glanced at my hubby hitting the ball and continued to look around. Out of the corner of my eye I watched his ball drop into the cup but what came out of his mouth next completely blew my mind. "Hey there's another ball in this cup. What were you playing with?"
"A Nike, I think," I responded still only halfway paying attention.
He pulled the ball out of the cup and sure enough, it was a Nike ball! I had hit a hole in ONE. Again, I was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs to the point that the guys playing on an adjoining green asked what happened. Of course, I had to tell them. I giggled and stuck the ball in my pocket and got another one. No way was I going to play with it again and risk losing it.
We got to the next hole and my husband said, "I have been playing fifty years and I have never hit a hole in one. Not many people can say they have."
I can.
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