By Shannon Hart, Brock (Canyon West GC)
Back in 1993, I was the tennis coach at Mineral Wells High School. Near the school is Holiday Hills Country Club, and one of the holes on the course is a par 5 that sort of wraps around the school’s tennis courts.
I had finished up tennis practice with our team that day and was playing a doubles match with my brother and two other friends. I was charging the net hard for a volley when I heard someone yell, “Fore!”
The golfer had mishit the shot, and it went into the tennis courts. The golf ball hit the court, then bounced up and hit me square in the mouth. I immediately bent over and started spitting out blood and teeth everywhere.
Coincidentally, there was one player on my high school team who was still there when all this took place. Her dad just happened to be a dentist. About 15 minutes later, I was in his office and stretched out on the chair.
All my front teeth, top and bottom, had been destroyed. I was there for about an hour and a half so the dentist could do damage control. I had to go back a few weeks later for a three-hour procedure to get fake teeth put in.
The guy who hit the shot was the son of the local Ford dealer. He was out playing golf with his dad to celebrate the birth of his first child. The son (who hit the shot) was unbelievably apologetic. He felt awful.
He said, “Send me the bill,” and paid for everything. He was great about it.
I still play a lot of golf myself. I won’t say I have PTSD because I think that term should be reserved for military veterans, but I will say that anytime someone yells, “FORE!,” my tail is ducking.
By Andy Greenwood, Houston (River Oaks CC)
I was about to tee off on No. 15 at River Oaks Country Club in Houston. This was in 1993, and back then that hole was a par 3 over water. This was in the club championship, first flight. I was 1-up in my match.
From the tee, it was 165 yards to the hole. There was a slight wind in my face. I went to my golf bag to retrieve my 5-iron. But it wasn't there. I searched thoroughly. I grabbed each iron and double checked. It was gone.
Then I checked the golf bags of other players in my foursome. It wasn’t in any of their bags, either. Somehow, I must have left the 5-iron on a previous hole ... something I’d never done before.
I ended up taking my 4-iron out. I wasn’t comfortable standing over the ball, but I kept my head down, choked down a half inch, and swung the club smoothly.
The ball sailed through the air – right at the flagstick. My ball lipped out, and I had a 3-inch, tap-in birdie. That put me 2-up with three holes to play and I went on to win the match.
Right after that pivotal shot on No. 15, I walked over to my bag to put back the 4-iron. What do I see? My 5-iron was right there!
Had I hit the 5-iron, my shot likely would’ve ended up in the water. I would’ve lost the hole for sure because my opponent made par. The match would’ve been even instead of me having a 2-up lead.
So, who was my invisible caddy? My dad had passed away a month before all of this. One of the most important playing lessons he taught me was to always take an extra club and choke down when going over water.
Could it have been? I think so.
By Nick Cristiano, Houston (Bay Oaks CC)
I teed it up on the par-3 eighth hole at the Wichita State University Course in Kansas. I sliced it badly – over a trap and some trees. As we were searching for the ball, some players who were on the sixth hole asked us if we were looking for a ball.
I said, “Yes.” They told me my ball was right here … at the bottom of the cup on the sixth hole!
Yes, that’s right: MY FIRST HOLE-IN-ONE WENT INTO THE WRONG HOLE!
Happy to report I have had two real holes-in-one since then.
By Ryan David, San Antonio (Oak Hills CC)
One time, during a round, I waived the cart girl by without asking my playing partners if they wanted anything.
I feared for my life the rest of the day.
