After 40 years of playing golf, I finally made my first ace, at my home course, on the toughest par 3. Playing with "my guys", as dusk was approaching, we came to the 13th, playing 186 yards with a little downwind breeze. My partner for the day was already on the green, freeing me up to be aggressive. As soon as I hit my 6-iron, one of the guys yelled, "That's right at the pin". Seconds later, we hear what sounded like a firecracker as my ball strikes the pin.

The guys all say the ball is close and might have gone in the hole. Given that time of day, the shadows made it tough to see that far away. Of course, after thousands of rounds and many close calls, I am prepared for the ball to be in a hazard or in the rough, anywhere but the bottom of the cup.

As I am still writing down scores from the 12th hole, my buddies are racing down the fairway to take a peak.

Suddenly, I hear a guttural scream, "It's in the F#$%ing hole!". Of course, I think they're teasing me, but low and behold, my ball is resting in the cup. There's a small "dent" at the front of the hole, where my ball entered, as it slammed into the stick. One inch higher or one inch lower, that ball does not stay in the hole, but on this beautiful evening aided by some divine intervention, I got my first ACE.