Cordevalle

The elusive ace……when you’ve never had one it seems as though the whole world has. The truth is, about 50% of the golfing population, give or take, has had an ace.

 I had been playing tournament golf for almost 30 years and still, no hole-in-one. My dad and two of my brothers had nine between them, though Pops waited forty years for his first in 1985, then added an additional quadruplet of aces over the next few summers. Growing up, Ma Parrott would send us out to play golf with a pat on the behind and the words ‘Get a hole in one and one-putt every green!’ What a great mom. But, what was I doing wrong?

In July, 1993, a strange thing happened.  Playing with RN and registered hypnotherapist Zoey A.  during a Women’s Metropolitan Golf Association event, our golf talk turned to aces.  We’d been behind a slow group of men all day and were waiting…waiting….waiting, with time to discuss important topics like world peace, lunch, and aces. Upon hearing of my lack thereof, instead of commiserating – and with not one ounce of sympathy – Zoe offered some stern advice:  

“You’re not trying hard enough. When you step up to the tee on a par-3, do you SEE the ball going into the hole before you swing? Do you implant the words ‘into the cup, into the cup’ in your mind on your backswing?” 

“Uh….no,” I admitted, guiltily.

“Well, that’s your problem,” she added.  

So, on the next hole, a 130-yard par-3, I did just that, and unbelievably parked my 8-iron two inches from the cup. Another par-3, after her suggested extreme focus, yielded a second birdie, dead-on-line but about 10-feet short. What IS this?? 

Zoe’s comments?  “Well, you might not get that hole-in-one today but you will get it this year.  And it will be soon.”  

The following week, during the Michigan Women’s State Amateur contested at the sneaky tough and tight Black River CC in Port Huron, my play was abysmal on qualifying day; by avoiding trouble on one side of the fairway, a worse destiny awaited elsewhere. I didn’t even make the Championship Flight. 

Upon hearing my tale of woe, Zoe, who also played but in another flight, said, “Janina, your mind is stronger than you think.  By concentrating on the trouble, and thinking ‘don’t go left’, don’t go in the water….or sand….or trees’, your mind recalls ‘Water!  Trees! Sand! Left!…..and that’s exactly where you’ll go.  The mind doesn’t hear ‘Don’t’. Instead, focus on where you WANT the ball to go.”

From then on, both my focus and play were stellar.  I’d won every match, even though I was in the Consolation Flight after my poor play Qualifying Day…but still, I wanted to win. Exactly eight days after Zoe’s prediction, I stepped up to the tee on the 179-yard 11th hole, a beautifully elevated par-3 with willows draping the skull-shaped two-tiered green guarded by bunkers on both sides. With the pin on the upper level, a shot closer to 190 yards was needed. Eyeing the 2-iron in my bag – I rarely used it then and don’t carry one now – it just seemed to be the right club. Earlier in the day during my morning match I’d hit 5-wood on the same hole, where it landed on the lower tier. Zoe’s mantra suddenly popped into my head. I re-grouped, planted the image of a nicely drawing shot going into the hole, and my last thought as I took the club away was ‘into the cup, into the cup’.

The ball sailed toward the green, drew in left only slightly at the flagstick, landed on the upper tier, took one bounce and disappeared.  I was stunned.  An incredible euphoria took over – one I never thought I’d feel if my ace ever came.  I didn’t yell, nor scream. I think I savored the moment, almost believing the ball didn’t go in the cup, but instead over the green. Certainly, it was a long way off and into the shadows of the setting sun. However, two rules officials who were on the tee shouted, ‘Oh my, that went in the hole!!!” My unlucky opponent also muttered, ‘Yeah. It’s in.” She was already 3 or 4 down after I’d birdied the par-4 10th.

Moments later Zoe pulled up in a cart, and where she came from I have no clue. She took one look at me and said, “You got it, didn’t you?”  She hadn’t seen the shot; she hadn’t heard the cheers from rules officials stationed on the hole.  But she knew.  I told her she was very scary and that she needed to go. Now! She simply smiled and drove away. 

Long-time legendary Detroit golf writer and Past President of the Golf Writers Association of America (GWAA) Jack Berry happened to be strolling nearby in the rough down the hill, and saw the ace. He came up, extended his hand, and said “Janina, let me be the first welcome you to the Detroit Free Press Hole in One Contest!” Jack was the play-by-play announcer for this legendary event in Detroit, which attracts hundreds and still exists today…and you had to have an ace to even enter. My dad’s fondest hope was that his kids and he could all one day compete together. I was the lone hold-out.

“I’m sure your Dad will be waiting to hear THIS news,” said Jack.

Indeed. I can’t recall anything in recent years giving me more pleasure than calling my dad and asking that wonderful kid-like question. 

“Hey, Pop, guess what?”