The day I learned golfing dreams CAN come true!
EvEry year, Lamborghini hosts an event in Las vegas where they offer punters the chance to win one of their cars if they hit a hole in one. No one has yet managed to buck the prodigious odds.
But such miracles can happen and one did so in Ascot of all places, 20 years ago this week. The sun was shining, England’s World Cup team was full of hope and Wentworth was looking resplendent in advance of the BMW PGA Championship.
The occasion was a pro-am for England’s footballers staged at Mill ride, and a few journalists were invited along. Sadly, the two football writers for the Sunday
Telegraph couldn’t make it, and so the golf correspondent showed up. That was the start of my day of outrageous fortune.
As a Liverpool season-ticket holder, it got off to a good start when I saw my name alongside Paul Ince and Steve McManaman. In the group behind was Michael Owen. Then we got to the 200-yard par-three 15th and discovered a £189,000 supercar parked behind the tee and that it was on offer for a hole in one.
Now I’d love to tell you I took dead aim but truthfully, with quite a crowd watching, I was just thankful to strike the ball properly. Then it landed on the green and I thought: thank goodness for that. Then it started to move towards the hole and you could hear the murmurs in the crowd. Then it fell in and, well, cue bedlam.
There’s a guide online to holein-one etiquette that talks about staying calm or letting out a small holler but to hell with that. There’s a picture of me when the ball went in: feet off the ground, face frozen in rapture, screaming with joy. Seconds later, I was mobbed by my new best mates Incey and Macca and we were on the ground as if we were celebrating the winner at Anfield. It proved an impressive piece of gatecrashing, all round. The next day, it was me on the back pages of most of the newspapers.
The National Hole in One Association called it the most famous ace in UK golf history. When I turned up at Wentworth the next day for a press conference, Colin Montgomerie was in his element. ‘Wouldn’t we all rather hear from Derek?’ he said, smiling broadly.
Accepting the prize meant a five-year loss of my amateur status that came and went without making a jot of difference.
With the proceeds, we upgraded from the house we were thinking of buying and still live there beside the sea on the beautiful Wirral Peninsula. It was the shot of a lifetime that keeps on giving.
And so, to those Las vegas dreamers who turn up each year and swoon when they see a Lamborghini parked behind the tee, I say: dream on. It can be done.