The (Golf) Shot Heard ‘Round the World

September 27th, 2014. It was a warm, perfect day. Much like the day I was born 23 years and 1 day ago. Some compare that day to May 8th, 1945. VE Day. The day the Allies accepted Germany’s surrender in WWII. Others compare it to March 8th, 2009. The day Terrell Owens signed with the Bills. To me, it was just another day at the office. Or so I thought. Over the next approximately 5 minutes, depending on your reading ability, you’ll travel on an elegant, nostalgic, and erotic journey with me as you learn about my hole-in-one experience. I wanted to write about this day so you can all learn a little something about hard work and dedication. Life doesn’t just hand you greatness. You have to earn it each and every day even when something doesn’t go your way, or when you’re hungover.
My 23rd birthday started out with a bang. I was still a fresh college grad. Still young, hip, and living in the greatest city in The Union. I had my whole career in front of me. I took that celebration to the bar with all the Lads. My friend even traveled from Baltimore to surprise me, although his girlfriend was also living in Buffalo at the time. A minor plus we’ll call it. As that Friday evening started I knew I should take it easy since I had a company golf tournament in the morning. But with Blue Light in existence I knew that was no longer an option.
When my alarm went off the next morning it was clear it was going to be a rough day (this is the perseverance part of the story. Pay attention, slackers).  The alcoholic Canadian premium subscription porn that is Blue Light reminded me that something that delicious comes at a cost more than just your average loonie. But, given my Will Smith like attitude, I knew I had to get out there, make it to the golf tournament with my friends, and continue to drink like any good non-quitter would do. I also had a Revive and Advil at my disposal, which is just a little lesson to always be prepared.
Once we got to the company tournament my foursome; Revive Aaron Witzel, Joe Foy, and Joel Hambelek, were ready to go. Joel was already hobo drunk carrying a bottle of whiskey around before we even got to the first tee. He just needed a little something to take the edge off since he’s never golfed before. The first tee was little rough. I had to work very hard to get my first beer down. However, once we got a few holes in I started feeling pretty good. Playing some serious golf out there I was impressing the cart girl each time she drove by. My golf shots were pretty good too, zing!
 And here’s Joel.
By  the time we finally got to the back nine it was impressive that Joel was still alive. Mumbling his words and having great difficulty driving the golf cart it was clear he was a non-threat to the other teams and most importantly the cart girl. And here’s proof.
 Then, there it was. The 12th Hole. About 5 beers deep I made my way to the tee box. I’m pretty sure I was walking in slow motion while a montage of all my life accomplishments played in the background. I grabbed my pitching wedge, dropped my Prov1 down on the freshly primed grass, took a deep breath, and swung away. The ball flight was perfect. Flying all 141 yards with a slight draw to the hole before bouncing past and spinning all the way back until…Ding! Right in the cup.
At first we didn’t know what had happened. We heard people cheer on the tee box next to the green. When I saw someone run onto the green waving me down there I knew I had just struck pick-up line gold. Gaily, the 4 of us frolicked down to the green as happy as can be (or so that’s how I remember it). We took pictures, shots of whiskey (thanks Joel), and high fived before grabbing the closest to the pin sign so I can write my name all over it and piss off everyone else who hit good shots. Much to my surprise who do I see on that list of people I was trying to piss off? My boss. A halfway decent golfer but for him to have had hit a shot a foot from the hole he must have been feeling pretty good about his chances. He actually tried to fire me on Monday, as a joke (I’m a model employee obviously). Luckily for me as the day went on the tournament was open bar. So it was easy for me to ‘buy people drinks’ (for all you idiots out there if you get a hole-in-one you have to buy witnesses drinks).
It was perfect. The day after my birthday. Fresh college grad. It was a sign for great things to come. Or so I thought. Again. We get to the next hole and tee off. Still ecstatic about my inhuman display of sports the previous hole. Feeding off the excitement, I drove down the cart path off the tee box chugging a beer with Joel by my side. Much to my surprise (at the time) it was very difficult to chug a beer while driving. As a result, I crashed the golf cart into a wooden ‘guard rail’ and the cart popped up into the air sending me flying out the driver side landing hands first down the cart path while Joel somehow ended upside down without spilling his beer. Which may have been more impressive than my hole-in-one. I had cut my hands up pretty good, bleeding everywhere. Joel may have had internal bleeding but he already couldn’t talk so there was no good way of knowing what kind of danger he was in. He had a good run anyways, we all decided.
More laughter and cheers ensued. Although for a different reason this time. It was all in good fun. The day continued with laughs, beers, and Joel trying to get the cart girl to watch his shot before ultimately whiffing right in front of her. After the tournament I won my $25 dollar gift card to Applebee’s for closest to the pin after the tournament (fuck yeah), did one last keg stand before they took it away for being degenerates at a country club, and went out again that night where I learned “hey babe guess who had a hole-in-one today” isn’t a good pick up line.
As I look back on that day I know I may not have taught you anything about hard work, perseverance, or preparation. But having a hole-in-one is something you can’t understand unless you have one. I thought at least sharing my story will prepare you for what to do, and what not to do, in case it ever happens to you, or probably me, again. It’s something that whenever you’re having a bad day you can think, “it’s okay, I’ve had a hole-in-one.” Or if you’re in the mood to piss off all of your friends you can remind them how good at golf you are, because of your hole-in-one. And if you really want to go the extra mile you can write an article describing all the details of the day. Because that’s what us hard working, persevering, preparation loving hole-in-oners do.
Patrick Scherer

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