Double Eagles
“What’s your game?” the tall guy asked while we stood in line to pay our green fees at Broadmoore Golf Course in Moore, Oklahoma. I smiled and said, “I usually play in the high 60s, lower 70s. Any colder than that, I stay home.” I thought he missed the second line and the humor when he only smiled and asked if I would like to join their threesome. “Sure, if you guys promise not to embarrass me.”
I actually and normally shot from the mid 80s to the mid 90s. I had broken 100 many times, but not recently, not since I retired and played a little more often. I broke 80 only once in my golfing life, a 79 at Trosper Golf Course in Del City. A good drive for me at 67 years of age was 235 – 250 yards. I’ve never hit a 300 yard drive in my life. In terms of irons, I’m a notorious “plucker”. While this provides relatively great height to shots, allowing them to end up close to where they landed, it shortens the yardage one can expect. For instance, when many guys would hit a 7 iron 150 yards and get a little roll. I, on the other hand, would hit it 125 or 130 yards and get little or no roll. This puts pin accuracy at a premium. Tom Watson was a “plucker”.
There were two guys in their 40s in this group and one’s 23 year old son. I rode with the youngster. He was a nice young man trying to make his way in the business accounting world. He told me he carried an 8 handicap; but wasn’t playing his best lately. “My dad has been on a roll lately.” I wondered what that really meant, but off we went. I was hitting the ball pretty well, but it was very apparent the two older guys were very low handicappers, possibly “scratch” golfers. I managed to par #1 and #2, but took a bogie on #3, a par 3 with a wide but shallow green. So far, the others had made par on all three holes. I was holding my own and feeling pretty good about it.
“Well, that’s 3 carryovers” the young man said as we rode to the next tee box. I slowed the cart and asked with some hesitation, “Carryovers? Are we playing for something?” “Oh, yeah. We always play $10 skins. Plus, we have $10 bonuses for winning birdies and $20 for winning eagles. I thought my dad told you.” My mind was working fast. I could lose $180 plus any birdie or eagle bonuses. As good as these guys were, I was bound to lose $200 or more; but….I could get lucky. Don’t ask me why, but I opted to stay in the game. I looked at the young guy with a grin and said, “Will they take checks?” He laughed.
Somebody was going to win a chunk of cash. After seven holes, we had seven carryovers going to the #8 tee box. Now, #8 is a long par 5 that goes downhill, back uphill, over a large three or four acre pond to a very large green that features some serious undulations. That day, the pin was in the back left, protected by multiple bumps and curves. The others all hit admirable drives, all to the right side of the fairway, making a second shot at the green a long iffy proposition. Rather, they would lay up several yards right of the green and chip on. My drive was slightly left and considerably shorter. My approach was to the water’s edge, for I most assuredly could not clear the water with any second shot I carried in my bag. I hit an 8 iron within 4 feet of the water on a level lie. The young guy said, “100 yards.” I looked at him and said, “There is a number on that red pole that says it is 123 yards to the center. You gotta read those poles, son.” I reached in my bag and pulled out my 7 iron. I envisioned the shot. I was hoping to hit the center with one good shot. “Don’t you think that’s too much club?” asked the young guy. “No, it’s a fluffy lie and if I hit it right, it will get me closer to the back of the green.”
Sometimes the Golf Gods like your attitude. Sometimes they don’t. Today must have been my day. I knew when I hit the ball that it was “pure”, that it was going to the green. It was one of those smooth, effortless swings that barely makes a sound. It was a high arc, but not too high; and it came down softly. The spin on the ball reversed as it hit the frog hair or fringe of the green and it started running…first down the slope and turning left, gaining speed enough to make it over the slight mound that protected the pin at the left corner. It was still curving and barely rolling when I heard the young guy whisper, “It’s in the f*#@in’ hole. It’s in the f*#@in’ hole.” He was right. It disappeared into the hole. “It’s in the f*#@in hole! It’s an eagle!” They had all seen it. I looked at them all very sheepishly and said, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then.” I had won 8 skins and the eagle bonuses for a total of $300.
Now I was playing on their money and could not lose. We got to the next hole and I had the honors. I could almost feel the adrenalin coursing through my body. Somebody said, “Let’er rip, Eagle man.” I took a deep breath, teed it high, and took a mighty swing. The drive was very long, especially for me, and straight down the middle. The young guy’s dad asked, “Where the hell did that come from? I smiled and said, “It must be the adrenalin.” Arriving at my ball, I had out-driven the others. I was proud and surprised. It looked like a 9 iron to the green, but it was uphill and into a slight southerly breeze. I pulled my 8 iron. I took the shot, but it was going to be short. I had “scooped” it a little. That’s one of the dangers of being a “plucker”. As it came to the ground, it took an incredibly high bounce in the direction of the green. Later investigation led us to believe the ball hit a closed sprinkler head. I lost sight of the ball, but was sure it would be in the very scruffy rough behind the green. Two of the three players hit their second shots on the green, while the third was trying to chip one close enough to salvage his par. He hit a great chip shot that finished about 3 or 4 inches from the hole. They were helping me look for my ball as he walked to the hole, he said, “Let me tap this in and I’ll help you guys look for his ball.” He tapped his in and, when he bent to retrieve his ball from the cup, he asked, “What kind of ball are you hitting?” I said, “A Canadian Club Titleist 3.” As we all looked on, he reached into the hole and pulled out my ball. He grinned big and said, “Eagle man, it’s in the f*#@in’ hole!”
Consecutive eagles. For a “hacker” like me, it’s unheard of, the stuff of dreams. Better than a hole in one? No…but it’s close. I won another $90 with that shot. I also won $60 for a birdie on #17, an over-the-water par 3 to a wide shallow green. Of that $450, I managed to net $280 after 18 holes. I let them get by for $35 each, so I netted $60 and the cost of the round of a lifetime.
I’ve only had two other eagles in my lifetime. One at Tinker AFB Golf Course and one at Lincoln Park West Golf Course in Oklahoma City. The eagle at Tinker was just dumb luck like most eagles made by hackers like me; but the other was the result of pure execution and daring. My round to that point in the afternoon had been a poor one. Who knew it would be a round and a shot I would always remember? My attitude as I hit that shot: “What can I lose?” I risked a blind shot with a 7 wood over very elevated thick woods and rocks to take a corner route to the completely insulated #16 green. It was surrounded by tall trees and rocks. Realizing the shot may have hit a limb and dropped into the trees and rocks, I decided to walk the path of the shot while my cart partner went to hit his second shot. I was elated to see that the ball not only landed on the green, but was only 34 inches from the hole. The two guys playing with me that day can say they’ve seen an eagle on that hole. It is a par 5 and the #1 handicap hole on the course. Eagles are mighty rare. Strangely enough, I count that second shot as the very best shot of my golf life. No luck, but pure intentions and purer execution. It was a thing of beauty. It paid nothing but satisfaction. That’s plenty.
Great putts are to be remembered as well. I had some very good putts in my life, but to pick my best is no challenge. I was participating in a local tournament at Earlywine South Golf Course, one of a pair of adjoining public courses in Oklahoma City. My team had tied another for the championship. A playoff had gone five holes without a decision. The next step was a “closest to the hole” putt…one putt by one selected team member from each team. The team whose putt was closest to the pin would win the glory and the trophies.
They took us to the #8 par 3 green. I had shown a pretty good putting day, so my team picked me for this final putt. It was downhill all the way with a huge break to the right…maybe 15 feet or so, depending on the speed. The putt was placed in the northeast corner of the green, high on a mound. The hole was in the southwest corner of the green, in the shade and right at the bottom of that severe slope. Given the necessary path of the putt, it measured a whopping 65 to 70 feet’. Touch and precision were required. My opponent won the toss and opted to go first, to put on some pressure. I was not allowed to watch his putt, so as not to gain an unfair advantage. After he hit the putt, it was quiet for a few moments, then I heard him grumbling. Then I was allowed to look. Hell! What was he grumbling about? He was only 21” from the damn hole! What a putt! What a putt! I took my time pacing the green, analyzing the slope. I took a lot of practice swings. I placed my ball and lined it up with my intended direction. I heard someone in the crowd of on-lookers say, “He’s aiming too far left.” I knew it was left, but he was wrong. It wasn’t too far. I positioned over the ball, tipped my hat brim upward, and stroked the putt. It was a pure contact, sounded sharp. I watched intently. Everyone did. I heard that same voice in the crowd say, ”Jesus Christ, this has a chance.” The putt ran out of steam on an upslope and lazily drifted down, down, down…..and into the hole. One of the guys from the losing team asked me,”Why do you tip you hat brim up before you putt? Does it disturb your vision?” I said, “No. That’s how I lock in the stroke.”
Just shows to go ya that luck is real and that even a blind pig can find the trough.
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