By Victor S. Farrah

On May 13, 1991, an absolutely perfect summer day — brilliant sunshine, blue skies and no wind or humidity — my son, Brad, invited two of his salesmen (Tom Corbett and Chris Knight) to play a round of golf with us at the Salisbury Country Club. The weather, fellowship and golf course were an inspiration for really getting out and smoking the ball. We were having a wonderful time.
The course was in excellent shape: the fairways deep green, the rough a little brown and long, and the greens were superb. Brad and I were consistently right down the middle with our drives, and Brad’s approaches to the green were as good as any pro on the tour. I was hitting my irons better than ever — long and straight. We were scoring one point for low score and one point for low ball, and the match was about even.
We stopped at the end of nine holes to enjoy a cold drink and a sandwich before beginning the back nine.
When we arrived at the 14th hole, we were behind two points on our Nassau bet.
The 14th hole is interesting: 170 yards long with a creek in front of the green, about 145 yards away. The creek is probably 30 feet wide, and the green is guarded by a sand trap in back and on each side. We enjoyed the view of this beautiful hole framed against the trees behind it and the blue skies above.
What happened next is riveted in my mind’s eye forever. Tom hit his five iron onto the back of the green. As I approached the tee with my four iron, Brad asked, “Dad, what are you going to hit?”
“I’m going to ‘smoke’ this four iron,” I replied.
Brad said, “Dad, that’s too much today.”
With an authoritative voice, I said, “I’m going to knock it into the cup.”
I swung and hit the ball high and straight as an arrow toward the cup. Brad yelled, “Dad, I think it’s in the cup.”
We all ran across the bridge to the green. Tom lifted the flag, and there was my Spalding Top Flight No. 1 in the hole.
We screamed and caused such a commotion, everyone around us immediately sensed what had happened.
I had been playing golf since 1950, and this was my first hole in one.
After the round, we had a happy celebration. Brad treated everyone in the clubhouse to champagne with a heartwarming toast: “How many guys get to see their dad shoot a hole in one?”
I shuddered to think of the bill he would be paying for all that champagne.
I received acclaim in the Salisbury Post, as well as in the Meadville Tribune, in Meadville, Pa., (where I formerly lived). Also, I received a trophy, with my golf ball in the center, plus a dozen Spalding golf balls.
The experience is one I shall always treasure.

Victor S. Farrah is a retired businessman who lives in Salisbury.

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