It happened in Myrtle Beach one fine December morning. We have all seen the miracle “Jesus” shot that skips two or three times merrily across the surface of a pond and then runs up unto the dry land, waiting to be struck again. This time it was different, much different.
The Snowman was on the tee box, there was a three hole carryover meaning a four-skin was on the line. He took a mighty swing, the ball soared straight up as if propelled by an 80º titanium driver. That mighty swing sent the ball at least 200 feet up and perhaps sixty yards out and it landed with a loud PLOP into a small pond just short of the fairway.
Laughter filled the air as snickers transmogrified into full-blown guffaws. But then that watery grave opened!
To this day estimates vary from 3 seconds to 3 minutes but one thing is agreed to by all; and that is that Frosty’s ball had gone to its grave for a minimum of 3 seconds and then, without warning, it shot straight up into the air and continued its odyssey towards the hole.
That ball ended up dry after drowning. Now, that’s just not right.
True to form, the ball required six more shots before completing its journey into that little Four-and-a-quarter-inch piece of heaven on the green. And, once again, the Snowman had the last laugh and the BGA had another unexplainable happening.