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Essays for Today and Tomorrow
Sunday Golfer
by James G. Bruen, Jr.
What a day!" said Will Duffy to no one in particular. "A little warm perhaps, but perfect otherwise."
His caddy stared down the straight and broad first fairway at the flag, 345 yards away on the green.
Duffy caught his drive perfectly. The ball flew low, true, and long toward the pin. “Wow,” exclaimed Duffy, drawing out the single syllable, as the ball hit the fairway and took a long bounce toward the green. “That may be the best drive I’ve ever hit.”
Duffy bounded down the fairway. His caddy caught up to him only after Duffy stopped to scan the area around the green for his ball. “Could it be?” thought Duffy when he couldn’t locate the ball. He had never made a hole in one.
Duffy trembled slightly as he removed the pin. He jerked the ball from the cup and in the same motion threw the ball directly overhead. “My first hole in one!” he yelled repeatedly as he danced around the green.
The second hole had a slight dog leg to the right. The green was nestled behind trees that lined the fairway. Although the green was not visible from the tee, Duffy went for it. He lofted a 3 wood over the trees and listened intently. He heard nothing: the ball had cleared the trees.
“For over thirty years, I’ve played golf every Sunday morning while my wife goes to church,” Duffy told the caddy as they strode the fairway. “I’ve never hit the ball as well as I’m hitting it today. I wish this could last for ever.”
When they rounded the dog leg, Duffy couldn’t see the ball on the green or apron. He headed for a sand trap to the left of the green to look for the ball. The caddy went straight to the cup, removed the pin, and announced: “Here it is.”
“Back-to-back holes in one!” exulted Duffy, reprising the dance he’d performed on the first green. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven!”
“You did die,” said the caddy when the dance had ended. “But you’re not in heaven.”
“C’mon,” continued the caddy. “You’ve got sixteen more holes to play. You’ll get sixteen more holes in one. Then we’ll start over, and you’ll play another round. Eighteen more aces. Then we’ll do it again. After that? Well, we’ll do it again. Eternally.”
The third hole was 129 yards, par 3. Normally, Duffy would use a 7 iron. He took out his driver and teed up. With all his strength, he drove the ball. He watched with relief as it flew high over the green, headed towards another fairway. But the ball struck a bird in flight and dropped onto the third green. Rolling slightly downhill, the ball broke to the right and dropped into the cup.
Duffy trudged down the third fairway to retrieve the ball. He had more golf to play. 