On the second day of our trip to Scotland, my buddies and I played Royal Troon in the morning and after lunch in the clubhouse, headed out to play alternate shot on Troon's Portland Course. I'd made the mistake of wearing leather, Foot Joy Classics on the first two days so by the time we got to the back nine that afternoon, I'd developed blisters the size of quarters on the back of each heel. As I stumbled up the 13th fairway in a light drizzle, I looked like Ken Venturi trying to finish the '64 Open at Congressional." Finally, I gingerly took of my shoes, tied the laces together and apologized as I laid them over the shoulder of my caddy named Wee Willy. When we got to the par 3 14th, known as Puddock, it was my tee shot so may partner and his caddy headed down through the heather toward the green, 186 yards away. With a pretty good downwind breeze helping, I grabbed an 8 iron and clenched my toes into the damp sod. The ball flew straight at the flag as it arched over the heads of our partners and their caddies and landed on the front edge. I thought I's seen it slide by the flag on the right but the four guys just short of the green started jumping and hollering as they looked back. It had actually hit the flag dead center, they said, and dropped straight down. We took a photo of the ball in the hole framed by my wet socks but that was four houses and two wives ago so I have no idea where it is.