I confess that I once tried doing a rough calculation of the number of attempts I was likely to have to actually have a hole in one . . . but I swear it was the last thing on my mind as I stepped up to the tee at the 6th at La Bretesche, a course in France I was playing with my best man of many years ago.
Both he and I play left handed, and I (on a brief holiday from my home in North Carolina) was using rental clubs (it's a great course, built around an old castle, but the rental sticks are mediocre at best). Well, he suggested I give his trusty 5 wood a try, and I hit a smooth one . . . on a line toward the right center of the green, over 200 yards away and slightly uphill.
The ball hit just short, rolled up, bent left . .and then we couldn't see much. My old friend noted that "it must be close" (and I felt the litle ker-pluf as my heartrate kicked up). . . . .but we know that these things don't ever really happen . .right?
Well, we walked uphill (mostly people use pull-carts, rarely motorized golf carts) . .and as we got closer . . we STILL didn't see the ball.
Th heart rate increased. It was if a motorboat was buzzing in my chest. Now, it's not likely that any 5 wood that I would ever hit could run through a green that was 200+ yards away . . . and so, as I headed across the green I actually felt good enough to begin pulling out my camera phone.
Sure enough . . that "Titleist 1" logo and number were looking up at me, in all their glory.
(And, since we were on a public course with no others we knew, we didn't feel compelled to buy everyone a drink . . but was that Champagne ever good that night!