Ace

One fine day, the day before Thanksgiving to be exact, I took a stroll through the local municipal golf course. Sunlight shone through a spotless azure sky, birds sang mellifluous tunes to coat the ether with dewy musical airs. Grass underfoot retained its verdant strains, while only a few brown blades spotted the undulating plains like a gracefully graying gentleman. Fall's scent of decaying leaves and earth wafted across the grounds as I pondered what possibilities lay waiting to be discovered.

The first hole left a uneventful par on the score card, while the second hole was witness to a twenty-five foot, down-hill, right-to-left breaker for a spectacular par. A near hole-in-one on the third left the building crowd gasping and wondering what might have been if Riley had only judged the wind correctly. A horrible travesty of justice marred the fourth hole led by a ignominious three-putt.

Then magic happened.

The Golf Gods smiled on brave Riley.

The years of dedication, hard work, perseverance, patience, and understanding came to a brilliant apex.

A trapped, half-wedge sailed through the air as though it were on a mission from god herself.

The grace of motion which many refer to as sheer poetry delighted the fans, on-lookers, and growing gallery.

With a deftness sought after by surgeons, the little white ball found the bottom of the cup.

"IT'S

IN

THE

HOLE!!!!!!!," the crowd shouted in unison.

"Now I've seen everything," muttered Riley's playing companion, half in awe, half in disgust riddled cheer.

Riley simply smiled and said, "that's two."