Went out at 9am for a few rounds at McCulloch with Sean and our friend Matt. By 10am it's Africa hot with humidity like pea soup. We are sweating balls but throwing well. I think the first round Sean was -3 or -4, Mark -1, Matt +5.
Second round. Skies are darkening. Sean checks the weather on his i-phone and things look sketchy. We don't care. Earlier in the week Sean and I discussed a study that looked into the reason men get hit by lightning more than women. Results of that study: Men are stupid. More on that later.
Round two: Interesting front nine, including a hole where Matt says something bad about Catholicism, then has a beautiful long putt fall in the basket, sit there for a beat, then literally jump out of the basket onto the ground. Mysterious forces are definitely at work.
We roll up to hole #11.
The basket is 240 a bit uphill. There are two ways to go at this thing. A hyzer way up in the air that goes around the big tree on the right and feeds to the basket. Or a low straight shot right at the hole. Sean likes the big hyzer. I've seen him hit the basket twice in the last two weeks with this shot. Once he hit the top, once he hit the bottom. I figure he's going to ace this bad boy soon.
Lately I've been trying the low line drive. I pull out my beloved blue Glide and let it rip. Things look good. Behind me Sean says, "That's in," and a second later it gets inhaled by chains. I jump and yell and dance.
My second ace ever, and my first with witnesses. This smile stays on my face for some time.
At hole 14 it gets very dark. Big thunder. Sean checks the i-phone and the news isn't good. As we walk up the fairway on 15 the downpour starts. We play 16 and 17 in massive headwind and good-sized-hail. I have the idea that if we don't finish the round the ace doesn't count. We're completely drenched. My bag has an inch of water in the bottom. We're going to finish the damn round.
We do. I shake like a wet dog and drive on home.
