As fate would have it, I would get my first hole-in-one while in a relative (definite) golf lull. Work has been strenuous and I have only been able to get out onto the course MAYBE once a month over the last year or so. I have a rare Sunday off work and get together for a round with the usual suspects; my dad, my best friend and my uncle. I'm playing my usual god-awful round and arrive tired, sunburned but content at the 177-yd 17th hole at Golf Club at Fleming Island. I have lost most of my swing strength during this golf lull so I pull out my 6-iron. I manage to hit a slight draw into the green, which strangely enough seems to be hunting down the pin. It takes a bounce, strangely enough TOWARDS the pin. I see it keep tracking, tracking, tracking towards the pin...and strangely enough suddenly I don't see the ball anymore. "THAT BALL DISAPPEARED!" I screamed. "I THINK THAT'S IN THE HOLE!" My dad, 140lbs soaking wet, comes running at me full speed and literally jumps into my arms laughing and raising hell. "Just wait a minute, I mean, I'm PRETTY sure that's in the hole but let's go to the green and see first!" I say, ALL too familiar with heartbreak in this game. We pull up to the green and I take that slow, long, anticipatory (of disappointment) walk to the pin. I look around. Nervously. I don't see a previously unaccounted for ball in the back of the green. OK good. A little closer. I don't see a similarly unaccounted for ball on the apron, or in the variously assorted traps. Ok better. On towards the pin....and the hole....THE BALL IS IN THE BOTTOM OF THE CUP! Raucous screaming and shouting ensues, of course. A previously mentioned father comes again running full speed and jumping into my arms. An uncle shouts. A best friend smiles. (Or grimaces?) And I get to share a very special event with 3 very special people. Later that night I get a text from my dad, a second-generation golf course superintendent, "What a golf shot. Never forget it. Can't quit enjoying the moment. That was the best shot you've hit. One is the least you can score and you are a real product of your heritage." Agreed, Pops.