It was a hot August day at Stonebridge Golf Club in Ann Arbor, Michigan. My playing partners were my brother Chris and a colleague whose name is Derek. I had just made par on the 5th hole. I hit three nice shots to reach the green in regulation and two putted for par. The 6th hole is the only opportunity to fill a water bottle on the front 9 at Stonebridge so I took a minute to do that and then selected a 4 iron. The hole is 179 yards featuring a narrow but long two tiered green with a bunker guarding the left side and a halo of trees surrounding the perimeter of the green.
I teed up a Pro-V1 #4 in the center of the tee box. Set up with the face of my 4 iron aligned just right of the flag stick. I took two practice swings, stepped to the ball with it back in my stance, and stroked a rope up the right side, drawing just slightly. As I watched the ball in flight I said to myself "if the distance is right it will be a good shot." The pin was up that day and the ball landed on the fringe, took one hop, settled, and rolled into the hole. From the tee box the three of us could see the ball disappear into the hole. I didn't know how to react, I was stunned, and quite honestly in disbelief. Chris and Derek were high fiving and congratulating me, and the reality became more plausible. When we reached the green I grabbed my putter out of sheer habit, but that club was not necessary on the 6th hole this day. There it was nestled between the flagstick and the inside of the cup.