We teed off just after 2:30pm at Arroyo Trabuco Golf Club, one of my favorite tracks in Southern California. The sky was clear, the fairways were pure, and the transfusions had just started to kick in. I was playing with two of my best friends — the kind of guys who know your swing better than you do and never let you live down a bad shot (or a great one).

We got to Hole 4, a short downhill par-3 playing about 146 yards that morning. The flag was tucked in the front-right corner, just behind a shallow bunker. I grabbed my pitching wedge — smooth swing, nothing fancy .

I hit it clean. One of those shots you don’t even need to watch — pure contact, a slight draw riding the breeze. It landed a couple of feet short of the pin, bounced once, checked up... and disappeared.

A hole-in-one. My first.

We erupted — hugs, high fives, and some very loud yelling that probably interrupted the groups on 5 and 6. Drinks were on me the rest of the day (as they should be), but honestly, I wouldn’t trade that moment for anything.

A perfect swing, two great friends, and one unforgettable shot.