SilverFoxWise

Derrick Coyle

For the golfing enthusiast, there is nothing quite as tantalizing as that elusive hole-in-one.

It’s the holy grail of a golfer’s lifetime resume. Like pitching a perfect game or hitting for the cycle in baseball. An achievement that instantly lifts an athlete into the rarefied air and exclusive company of sporting elite.

While some liken the chances of an amateur scoring a hole-in-one to getting hit by lightning or winning the lottery, according to the National Hole-in-One Association, the odds are about 12,500 to 1. It’s understandable that odds would improve for professionals and low handicappers. Just last week at The Barclays, PGA Tour pro, Brian Harman performed the incredible feat of two aces in a single round.

But the allure, and perhaps the irony, is that any golfer of any skill level could conceivably make one on a given attempt.

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As golfers, we spend countless hours fantasizing about that perfect shot that delivers us our first ace. We visualize it as we address the ball on virtually every par-3 hole we play.

We agonize over the near misses after a round and convince ourselves that if we just keep trying, our time will come. While many golfers know someone who has made a hole-in-one, relatively few have actually scored one themselves, or even witnessed one.

That was my story until yesterday morning when I watched former colleague and current golfing buddy, Rob Barbisan, make his first ace on the par-3, 15th hole at Ingersoll Golf Club.

“What do you have it at, 138 yards?” asked Rob, as he teed his ball and tossed some grass in the air to gauge the wind.

Noting a front pin placement on the hole posted at 160 yards from the whites, I glanced at my SkyCaddie watch and reported, “144 to the middle, 129 to the front.”

Barbisan has the uncanny ability to estimate yardages without benefit of technological assistance. “So 138 then,” he repeated.

“Sounds about right,” I conceded.

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Steve Mewes, Paul Stone, Rob Barbisan, Derrick Coyle (Jul 2009)

One certainty when it comes to golfers (and particularly amateur golfers), is there are about as many swing styles as there are players. My long, loopy, lash at the ball is often compared to the swing of Jim Furyk – without the results.

Barbisan, a left-hander, utilizes a quick, compact swipe, perhaps more in the fashion of a sawed-off slap shot. He is the fastest player I know, wasting no time over the ball. While some golfers torment playing mates with protracted pre-shot routines, Barbisan simply steps in, looks at the ball, and takes his swing. Though ball flight will optimistically crest at about 15 feet and require him to work around hazards as often as over them, with a controlled right-to-left fade he manages his game very efficiently with low runners and scores consistently to his 15 handicap.

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Off the club, at the 15th hole, it was clear Barbisan’s ball was tracking and likely to finish close. After a first bounce on the front fringe and a couple of short hops, it negotiated the contours of the green, slowing as it approached the pin, then disappeared without a sound. “It’s in!” I said.

“No it’s not,” he protested, tentatively, “It’s gotta be off the back … did you see it go in, are you 100 percent sure? … 90 percent?”

“You’re in the hole, man. You aced it!”

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Even as a witness, it’s surreal to walk towards the flag and confirm such a monumental event with the sighting of the ball at the bottom of the hole. While I tidied up the first three-putt bogey I’ve ever made with a smile on my face, it was clear Barbisan was blissfully lost in the moment – his moment.

He stared wistfully at the logo ball given to him by another of his golfing pals and pledged to find it a suitable showcase. A ball that had just three holes earlier been absconded by a squirrel and carried six feet up a tree before being dropped directly behind the Maple’s ample trunk. This was a memorable day indeed.

Seconds later, Barbisan’s look of satisfaction and humble reverence to the golfing gods gave way to an expression of panic as he blurted, “Oh no!”

“Oh no, what?” I asked.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see this day and I’ve always said that if I ever made a hole-in-one, I’d be so content that the Good Lord could just take me right then,” he explained.

“I’m sure the Good Lord will give you a mulligan on that deal, my friend,” I offered.

I must confess, I did hedge the bet by keeping a precautionary margin of space between us when thunder and lightning rolled in a couple of holes later.

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