Late October 1998.
Edmonton.
There might’ve been 6 cars in the parking lot, as I pulled into 7 Oaks for one last round of golf.
Summer had long since wound down,
and Fall was hanging on for dear life.
It was raining.
It was cold.
The wind was roaring down from the north.
I grabbed my clubs and walked to the clubhouse.
The weather was miserable at best.
But, at least, there wasn’t any snow on the ground.
Not yet, anyway…
My buddy, Mark was behind the counter.
“Plume!!! Yer back in town!”
“Yeah, man, for a couple days anyway. Hey, what are the chances of getting out for a quick 9 holes…?”
“Pretty good, I’d say. There’s only about 4 people on the course right now. You can head out whenever you want. Grab a cart…”
“Nah, thanks man, I’ll walk. I need the exercise…”
I walked up to the first tee and there was an old-timer just about to get his round started.
He was all of 80 years old.
Maybe even older.
He was decked out in layers of rain gear.
“Hey there!
“Howdy!”
“Mind if I tee off with you?”
“Be my guest, and besides, I wouldn’t mind the company…”
He pured his drive about 150 yards straight down to the mayor’s office.
“Nice poke.”
“Thanks, Mike! You know, the older I get, the closer the ball is to me after I hit it…”
I smiled, as I teed up my ball.
I could smell cold, wet leaves.
I could see my breath, as I took a couple practice swings.
I looked down the fairway.
I looked back at the ball.
One more glance down the fairway.
Checked my grip.
Addressed the ball.
Waggled the club.
Took a deep breath.
Pulled back my driver…
and swung for all I was worth.
I was still posing for my Sports Illustrated cover, when I realized that I’d “tugged” my drive down the left side of the fairway.
I was dangerously close to the road, “Out of Bounds” and “Three off the Tee”
“Good ball.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you at the green.”
“See you at the green.”
And off we went, marching towards our second shots.
His shot, while still about 160 yards from the green, was in perfect shape in the middle of the fairway.
My second shot would be from deep in the tall grass along the fence.
Up on the green, the flag waved like it was trying to be rescued.
The rain was dripping off the bill of my ball cap.
Miraculously, somehow, I hit my approach on the green.
Predictably, I three putted for bogey.
As we were walking to the next tee, from way off in the distance, I heard “Fore!!!”
Three or four seconds later, a golfball landed about 30 yards in front of the first green.
Alone, back on the first tee, there was a guy waving to us as if to say, “Sorry about that, boys…”
“Jesus! He got all of that one, didn’t he? And in this weather too!”
“Yeah, man, yer not kidding…”
The second hole was a Par 5.
Not terribly long, but in the teeth of a gale-force wind, it felt every inch of 700 yards.
We hacked our way down the fairway and on to the second green.
Safe to say, but there’d be no “Personal Best” for me on this day.
I wouldn’t be framing my scorecard.
The third hole was a short par 4.
Maybe 220 yards.
About one hundred and fifty yards off the tee, the fairway dropped into a valley, where 40 feet down, and 60 yards away, lay the green.
Big hitters would launch a towering 5 iron and stick it on the green.
Sometimes, if you hit yer drive perfectly, you’d land on the downslope of the hill and your ball would roll downhill the last 60 or 70 yards to the green.
I’d usually knock something like a 5 iron to the top of the hill and then an easy 9 iron to ten feet.
Roll the birdie putt towards the cup.
Two more putts for bogey.
Easy Peasy.
You know, consistency is everything in golf.
Anyway, the wind was roaring from left to right as we teed off on 3.
The rain was beyond steady.
We stubbed our drives to the top of the hill.
Cart golf.
When we got to our second shots, we could see that the green was covered in wet leaves.
Oh well.
So we stabbed our approach shots down onto the green.
We each had birdie putts coming up.
Then we each had par putts.
As we were lining up our bogey putts, again, from off in the distance I heard “Fore!!!”
About 3 seconds later, a golfball came zipping and skipping down the hill and rolled right up to and across the green.
“Boy, he got all of that one too…”
“Yeah, man, yer not kidding…”
As we were walking off the green, the old-timer says, “Let’s make this young fella’s year…”
He picks up the guy’s ball and drops it in the cup.
What?
Did he just do what I think he just did?
Can you do that?
Maybe he was one of the “Golf Gods” you always hear about.
We tee off on the par 3 fourth and continue on with our round.
I can’t believe what just happened.
But I ain’t gonna say shit.
About 5 minutes later, we’re walking from the fourth green to the fifth tee, when, back on the third hole, the guy comes walking down the hill.
I can tell what he’s thinking.
“I’m never gonna find my fucking ball. Not with all these wet leaves all over the fucking place…”
But he keeps looking.
Everywhere.
Everywhere except for the one place he truly wants to look.
The bottom of the cup.
But that’s just wishful thinking and we all know that feeling.
About two minutes later, we shoulder our golf bags start and making our way up the hill to the 5th fairway, when back on the 3rd green, we hear…
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCKIN’ FUCK! YAHOOOOOOO!!!!”
Then laughter.
Hysterical laughter.
Through the trees, we can see him laughing and dancing alone on the green.
He also knows that no one is gonna believe him, so from about 70 yards away and through the wind and the rain, he looks at us and yells at the top of his lungs, “I JUST GOT A FUCKING HOLE IN ONE!!!”
We waved back to him our congratulations.
We were walking towards the 5th green, when the old-timer says to me,
“I don’t know about you, Mike, but if you ask me, I’d say a hole in one is a pretty good way to finish yer golf season, wouldn’t you?”
“Yep. Sure is.”
I couldn’t believe it.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
After we’d putted out on the 9th green, the old-timer and I shook hands.
“Nice meeting you Mike, I enjoyed yer company.”
“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too, sir. It was a good time.”
“Should we stick around to see if our friend buys the house a round for getting a hole in one? I mean, it’s the least he could do…”
“Ha! Yeah maybe, but I think I’d better get home, I’m freezing… and besides, I’m not sure I could keep a straight face”
“Yeah, me too, I’ll see you out here next year, I’m sure…”
We walked to our cars.
I waved to him as I drove away.
I never saw him again.
The next morning, there was snow on the ground.
Mike Plume
October 14, 2019
