In the driveway, Big Al stood beside the lifted hatch of his company Suburban. Two other buddies were already settled in the back seat.

With a booming handshake and a grin, Big Al announced, “We should hit Gravel Pit by 10:15. Shotgun starts at 11:00.”

The Psychic spoke for the crew, “We really appreciate your boss covering each of our $600 entry fees for the Gold Rush. That’s generous. Why’d he do it again?”

Big Al chuckled. “He and his partner run a branch in Brainerd. They’re sponsoring a hole – it’s a company write-off. They even gave me the day off and the Suburban.”

Two years earlier the group had played Gravel Pit on their annual Fall trip and had been looking for an excuse to return.

“It was so much fun,” said Henry. “Every hole’s different, and some of those greens were brutal. Scott Hoffman – same guy who designed The Classic at Madden’s – did a great job.”

Big Al waved off the greens. “No putting today. This is a Hole-in-One-Only event. We hit tee shots, pick up the balls, and move on. Each of the 13 holes has a closest-to-the-pin prize… of at least a thousand bucks. Volunteers mark and measure. One hole has the SmartPin – with cash for shots inside three feet, and a grand prize for an ace on that hole. We’re not touching the new 10-and-a-half-hole sister course today.”

Barry, half-distracted by the pastries on the console, asked, “If the shotgun is at 11:00, how many holes are we playing?”

Big Al laughed. “Probably more than you’ll want, Barry. The competition runs until 5:00. No one knows how many loops of the 13-hole course we’ll make – we just keep hitting tee shots. Let me explain.”

He went on, “The main event is a Hole-In-One Shootout. About eighty percent of the entry fees go into the jackpot. If no one makes an ace, the pot carries over to next year. If there’s more than one ace, Chuck, the tournament director, will split the prize – unless somebody calls for a one-shot sudden-death playoff for the whole thing.”

At 11:00 a.m., the shotgun blast cracked across the property and 104 golfers launched their opening tee shots.

A little after 5:00, the Psychic’s weary foursome parked their carts beside the hill-top clubhouse – a clever structure built from metal shipping containers. The buffet table was already busy, and the drinks, flowing since mid-morning, kept the mood lively. The music pumping from the rooftop speakers seemed even louder as the day wound down.

Every golfer wore a grin and swapped stories about near-misses and tight shots. At last, an announcement: a single ace – on the blind, 85-yard sixth hole – had been made by a local golfer. The jackpot: over $50,000.

On the dark drive back to St. Paul, the foursome replayed the day: the drama of each shot, the challenge of the quirky greens, and the rush that came with every near miss.

The Psychic tip-toed up the steps at home in his stocking feet, dropped his clubs by the door, rinsed his Yeti, and headed straight to the crystal ball in his study.

From deep within the swirling glow, he envisioned groups of eight golfers launching tee shots on short holes – 80 to 150 yards – across non-traditional layouts: compact par-3 venues that weren’t nine or eighteen holes. Players paid a fee to chase a pre-set jackpot for a hole-in-one. The entire course could be played in under an hour – perfect for lunch breaks or a quick after-work challenge.

The vision sharpened. Every shot was automatically recorded on video, ensuring proof of an ace and a ready-made, shareable highlight clip.

Then came another glimpse: indoor and outdoor “putt-putt-style” courses, each hole offering a cash prize for an ace.

“Instant gratification,” the Psychic thought. That was the future of golf – fast, thrilling, and shareable.