150-yard Par 3. With the wind against us, I clubbed up to a 7-iron and tried to keep it low. Pre-cataract surgery, so I could really see where the ball went. I looked in the bunkers to no avail. Pulled out another ball in disgust, while mumbling, “I HATE this game. KNOW I hit it well.” A parter said, “I guess so, it’s in the hole”.