My highlight is Jeff Shelman-esque, with a few twists. When I realized that I and two buds would play NGLA in August, the first email I sent was to GCA's Chuck Glowacki, a looper at the National. Folks, if you get the opportunity to walk those hallowed fairways with clubs, you should request Chuckster G as your jock. Not only is he the most gracious fellow (well met), he is knowledgeable beyond words in the ways of the National.
Here's the highlight: I'm in good company with Alan Shipnuck (Golf Magazine) and Alex Myers (Golf Digest) only in that none of us has an ace. On the 4th at NGLA, I zipped an iron to about three feet from the hole, watching it roll across the face of the hole, before halting. It was fair that I missed the putt. On the 6th, I got closer; I banged my iron off the flagstick, with ball settling 18 inches from the crevice. That putt (phew) I made. Nothing magical happened on the final shawtie (number 13) but on Chuck's call, I zipped blindly an iron into the punchbowl 16th, to inside a yard, for another birdie.
I don't recall my score that day, as much like Ty Webb, I no longer keep score. What I do recall is the fickle finger of fate pointing in our direction, the great camaraderie of Chuck and all the caddy staff, our host's ridiculously warm welcome and treatment, and the best golf course a fellow could ever hope to play.