I got my first ace on the 3rd hole at Heritage Oaks outside of Chicago. It was 164 slightly uphill and I poured an 8 iron. It was right at it but we couldn't see the cup, however my good friend, Matt, said "I think that might go it". "Nah," I said.

When we got to the green, we saw that the flag was all the way at the back, so, not wanting to presume or anger the golf gods, I started looking for my ball in the rough behind the green. A couple minutes later Matt walk over to the hole, and sure enough, there was my ball!