Hole in one with J.R. Smith an omen for Nuggets fortunes?

Left to right: My buddy Jeff, J.R. Smith and yours truly moments
after hitting the best shot of my life (cell phone photo)

It was a cloudy afternoon in the city, rain was on its way, and I couldn't fight the itch to hit the links.  City Park Golf Course (the working man's course) is only five minutes from my house, so my neighbor Jeff and I tossed our shoddy clubs in the car and raced across York Street as daylight burned.

As we pulled into the course parking lot we noticed a tall, well-dressed man who, to a hoops fanatic who watches way too much basketball, looked very familiar.

"That's J.R. Smith," I told Jeff, who didn't seem particularly impressed.  "The Nugget."

I laced up my spikes and headed over for an introduction, wondering what this multi-millionaire was doing at a public course.  Was J.R. Smith, long dismissed as an immature, thuggish bad boy (mostly by his own coach) truly a man of the people?

He was cordial, if a little shy, and seemed focused on his upcoming round.

I checked in with the pro shop and snatched up the next available tee time.  

"You'll be playing with those two gentlemen putting on the practice green," said the pro, motioning behind me.  I whipped my head around and realized I was about to go nine holes with the Denver Nuggets' #1.

As we teed off on the first hole, my ball skirted towards the cart path and J.R.'s mammoth drive sailed 300 yards to the fairway -- the one adjacent to the hole we were actually playing.  His swing was a combination of Tiger Woods and John Daly.  As with his outside shot, the most unpredictable moments occurred when he was a long ways from the target.  To break the ice, I announced to the group that anyone who pars a par 3, birdies a 4 or eagles a 5 has to raise their hands with three fingers aloft in the JR salute.  It seemed to work.

I got my wish -- as I tapped in for par on the par 3 fourth hole, I looked over at him and put three fingers in the air.  "Woo!" hollered J.R., holding up the salute as he climbed into his cart.

I took that opportunity to talk some hoops.  I asked him about his experience practicing with Team USA on Team Select this summer, an honor bestowed on 12 of the NBA's best young players including Kevin Durant, LeMarcus Alridge and overall number one pick Derrick Rose.

"It was cool.  Some great players, man," he said, seemingly unaware of how huge a step this was for a young player with a troubled past.  On this day, however, he was focused on golf -- as I mentioned how incredible the '05 National Champion North Carolina team would have been had J.R. signed with them instead of coming to the NBA, he slyly smiled and lined up his shot.

The rain inevitably came, sprinkling down on the charming city course -- a place so informal we noticed some neighborhood folks walking their dog through the fairway.

"Is that lady really walking her dog?" wondered Smith aloud.

Then came the long par 3 seventh hole.  With a slight breeze in my face, I deliberated over my choice of club.  I'm not a big fan of the 190-yard distance, never sure if I should whip a 4 or 5 iron or choke down on the 5 wood.  I went with the 5 wood, teed up towards the back of the tee box, choked down diligently and swung nice and easy.  The ball launched high in the air and sailed towards the green.  The gallery was silent. 

The ball plopped down on the green like a tired head on a feather pillow, bounced slightly and rolled right towards the hole.  Then it disappeared. 

"Did that go in the hole?" asked my buddy Jeff.

"I think so," I whispered, still in shock.

"Yo! Yo!" yelled J.R. running straight at me.  He jumped slightly and extended a true NBA-style chest bump.  After 16 years of playing golf I had just hit my very first hole in one.  And received my first chest bump from an NBA player. 

It didn't really matter what happened the rest of the round.  "That's the best shot I've ever seen," said Smith, a man I was beginning to realize was very misunderstood.  He was a true gentleman.  And like coaches such as the Nuggets' Jamahl Mosley have discussed, he seems focused on one thing: getting better.  The same was true on the golf course.  He is a raw talent with a knack for the long ball.

As we shook hands on the ninth green and realized there was neither time nor daylight for a full 18, I wished him luck for the Nuggets upcoming season.  With more question marks than the Riddler's costume, they're going to need it.  If that afternoon told me anything it was that Smith is at peace with his new contract, he enjoys Denver and he's not above mingling with the locals for an afternoon at the municipal links.

Though Nuggets owner Stan Kroenke wishes he could take a few mulligans on the atrocious contracts of Kenyon Martin and Nene, he can rest assured about keeping Smith around.  The future is uncertain, but the Nuggets may just have their ace in the hole.