My buddy was playing in a weekend long tournmanet organized by one of his friends. They were a few people short, and I got the call to join. After the first two matches at Taconic, we were down by a few points. After the third match, we were in last place, but it was close. We spit up for a fourth nine - individual skins. We both manged to take several skins which put us in second place at the end of 36 holes, good enough to play in the championship 18-hole match. We woke up the next morning to a two hour frost delay. We finally got called to the first tee, and, after my first shot of the day, I knew we were in for a day. And not the kind that every mid-handicap golfer desires. It was not going to be one of those low-eighties day. It was a day filled with missed fairways, lost balls and putts left short. My partner somehow kept it together throughout my woes, and coming into 15 we were one down. After some team discussions on the 14th led to the wrong club selection and another missed green, we rolled up to a 140-yard par three. The pin was placed at the front of the green, leaving 20 or so feet between the water's edge and the hole. I was third to hit. I pulled my Titleist AP-1 9-iron. Solid contact led to that ball flight that makes your heart skip a beat. You hold your pose. You watch the ball. But you never expect it to go in. Well, I flew the water, left a ball mark about 6' from the pin and after a skip and a roll, watched the ball go in the hole. I threw my club in the air, as did my partner. We chest bumped. We screamed. We chest bumped again. The group in front of us went nuts. We ran in circles. Then we thought, what if we all didn't actually see it go in? We quickly walked to the hole and lo and behold, there it was - my hole-in-one.