Every golfer knows the chase.
The quest for a hole-in-one (golf’s most celebrated lightning strike) can take a lifetime. For some, it never happens. For others, it arrives when you least expect it. Even rarer is the moment that sits higher on golf’s ladder of impossibility: the double eagle, also known as the albatross. It’s the kind of shot most golfers will never witness, let alone make, and yet it’s what keeps us coming back.
My own brush with the impossible came when I was about 17 years old, playing with my brother-in-law, Jim Sambolt, at Rolling Green Golf Course in Eighty-Four, Pennsylvania. It was a mild, sunny day, the kind where everything feels just a little easier. My game back then could best be described as the ball goes a mile, I just don’t know where it’s going, but that day I had a rhythm. We made the turn, I parred the friendly par-4 tenth hole, and then stepped onto the 495-yard par-5 eleventh feeling pretty good about things.
I hit a long drive that leaked slightly right toward a row of pine trees lining the fairway. From there, you can only see the very top of the flagstick, as the second shot plays uphill to a small, tucked green. I pulled a 5-iron, aimed just to the right of the pin, and struck it solid. The ball took one bounce… and vanished. Jim and I searched everywhere, convinced it had sailed over the green into the high grass some 20 yards beyond. Just when I was ready to give up, I glanced in the one place you never expect to look first. There it was. In the hole. A double eagle. The impossible had happened.
I’ve come close to a hole-in-one more times than I can count, but the closest I’ve ever come to something that miraculous again was a second double eagle at the now-closed Rolling Hills Country Club in Peters Township. My second shot on a par-5 finished right on the edge of the cup, a reminder that golf never stops flirting with you… and rarely seals the deal.
As special as those moments were, they were eclipsed this past January during our 2026 Dominican Golf Classic. We hosted 32 golfers from across the United States in Punta Cana, and during our practice round at Corales Golf Course, we witnessed something truly unforgettable. Our good friend and trip regular, Noah Montanez, did the unthinkable, recording a double eagle on the par-5 12th hole, one of the most demanding on the property.
Playing from the Corales tees that day, the hole measured 527 yards. From the tee, it appears straight and flat, but the fairway dips into a hidden gulley you can’t see. The second shot is typically a layup due to blind sightlines, multiple bunkers guarding the approach, and a narrow, two-tiered green that punishes misses on either side. Miss left and the ball rolls all the way to the bottom of a hill, leaving a severely elevated next shot. Miss right and you’re forced to carry a bunker to a skinny target, with the same cruel result if you don’t pull it off. In short, this hole gives nothing away.
Unless you’re Noah.
He went driver, then 8-iron, and somehow found the bottom of the cup. We are still awaiting official confirmation, but we’ve been told this may be the only double eagle ever recorded on this hole. That alone would be impressive. What makes it even more remarkable is that some of the best players in the world compete on this course every year during the PGA Tour’s Corales Puntacana Championship and none of them have done what Noah did.
Noah was playing that day with his father, David Montanez, a close friend and owner of several popular Mexican restaurants in the Pittsburgh area. Their playing partners were Tri-State PGA member Stevie Kusenko and Brian Corrin, all of whom had front-row seats to a moment they’ll never forget. The resort awarded Noah with the official flag, and we proudly presented it to him during our closing dinner ceremony.
Noah Montanez with his father, David Montanez.
To put the feat into perspective, the average amateur golfer has odds of roughly 12,500 to 1 to make a hole-in-one. A double eagle? Try 6,000,000 to 1. You’re more likely to make two holes-in-one in your lifetime than a single double eagle. Many golfers will never even see one in person. That said, for as long as Noah can hit the ball, I’d put his odds closer to 1,000,000 to 1 – but you get the idea.
That’s why the Double Eagle Golf Club exists. Founded in 1997 with Gene Sarazen as its first president, the Club maintains that a double eagle isn’t luck, it’s excellence achieved. It’s the product of countless hours of practice, commitment to the craft, respect for the game, and a dream that lives quietly in every golfer’s mind.
So here’s to chasing the impossible. Here’s to checking the cup when you least expect to. And here’s to returning next year to one of the greatest golf destinations in the world, where lightning sometimes strikes and excellence is always the goal.
