“To play golf is the search for perfection.” – A.J. Dalconen
So you find yourself in a death-like match play tournament at your local club, against another member who you’ve never faced before and didn’t really know. It has been a struggle, with your opponent making you fight hard on every hole. Yet you come to 17 tee with a one shot lead. A half on this hole and the match is dormie. Even better, win 17 and the match is yours.
You have the honors on the hole you’ve played so many times, one that measures 212-yards, but is playing shorter with the tailwind. You pull your 180-yard club, the six.
Everyone on the tee is quiet, each shot now crucial and meaningful, with bragging rights as the trophy. You take a practice swing and it feels good, the one-shot cushion boosting your confidence. Then comes the one that counts, which is solid. You look up to see your ball on a great line, maybe even a perfect one. You see it hit and bounce before it disappears over the mound in front of the green. “That’s a great shot,” your opponent says.
“Thanks,” you answer, thinking to yourself that you’ve just won the match.
None of the foursome can see where the ball stops but one of the other players remark that it should be close, and the satisfying feeling of accomplishment washes over you.
“Hard to tell from here,” you say, trying to sound humble. You don’t want to hit it again.
Your opponent tees his ball and steps back, facing a target that must look much further now. He takes a couple of practice swings and exhales through pursed lips, before addressing the ball. He has been solid all day, a worthy opponent.
He hits the hybrid and you watch and wait for what really should just be a formality, as you get ready to accept congratulations on the green.
You see his ball flying at the right side of the green, but moving back to the center with that same high draw you’d watched all day. It hits a little right of the mound and takes a slight kick to the left, towards the pin. Maybe 18 will matter after all, you say to yourself.
“Great shot,” says Willie, who has already won his match against Tom, 4 and 2. “You guys are relentless.”
“Great shot,” you echo.
“Thanks, it had to be.”
The two carts drive the short distance, Tom and Willie leading the way. Then Tom turns around and looks at you grinning, raising his hands above his head. Oh no you think, one must have gone in. You know your shot was perfect but what if his was more perfect. He’s made an ace to tie the match, you think. And now he’ll have all the momentum and probably get me on 18, to win.
Calm down, you think again, your shot was great; you could just as easily be the one in the hole.
Then comes a full view of the green, but instead of just one ball in sight, you see none. That’s bizarre, you think, as you look to the back of the green and beyond, still seeing nothing.
Willie and Tom are now sprinting towards the hole. No way, you think. One hole in one is extremely rare, especially on a hole this long, but two, back-to-back, is impossible.
“What do you think?” you ask your opponent.
“No way,” he whispers back.
Then you hear Willie, who has reached the hole and is looking down and screaming. Tom gets there and pushes him aside, having to see the miracle for himself; then he falls and writhes about, as if possessed.
“THEY’RE BOTH IN THE HOLE,” Willie yells. You turn to your opponent who is grinning back at you as if to say, “Now we’re connected for life.”
But instead comes, “Nice shot.”
“Back at cha.”
(On June 23, Greg Bontrager and Justin Pressnall had back-to-back hole-in-ones at the Hesston, Kansas Golf Course, at hole 17, in a league match-play tournament for members. Pressnall, up by one, hit his six-iron first. He was followed by Bontrager, who hit a hybrid-club. In the rarest of rarities, both men aced the tough 212-yard hole, and walked away with a half.
The golf gods, awakened throughout the universe, rendered their justice on the last hole by allowing Bontrager a par, while giving Pressnall a bogie. And the match, now forever legend wherever the ancient game is played, was properly halved.
Footnote – In this account Willie and Tom are fictitious. In 1860 Willie Park won the inaugural British Open against Old Tom Morris. Just seemed fitting they were there somehow.)