Ok, I never had a hole in one, but this is about golf, and this is my story. I was playing with my mother-in-law, Faith, who I love dearly, and wanted look good in front of her. We were playing her regular course. I don't remember which hole it was, but it was a weirdly configuirated par 5; a long fairway, with a 90 degree turn to the left to an elevated green.
I hit a sizzling t-shot (I was at the top of my game back then), maybe 230-280 yards. The approach to the fairway next to the elevated green was maybe another 150-170 yards straight up the fairway. I pull out a six iron and click the ball clean. I'm maybe 70-80 yards from the elevated green 90 degrees to my left. I pull out a sand wedge, but, looking way up at the elevated green, I exchange it for a pitching wedge. I pop it up and wait for my mom-in-law (who's in her late 60s and hanging with me, she's super woman, now a ghost of alzheimer's in her mid 80s).
After she shoots we hike up to the green, I'm looking high and low for that ball; in the sand traps, around the fringe. Faith says "hey, maybe that's it." Two feet from the hole is a white ball. I can't believe it. That was my favoite hole ever; not a hole in one, but close enough.
