Rock bladed his chip shot. He watched the ball dart across the green and over the far side. It was his first time on the course so he had no idea where the shot had settled, but his mother let him know.
"Ouch," she said, putter in hand, as she stood twenty feet from the pin. "You went into a ditch."
It was worse than he imagined. His ball was in a creek bed approximately six-feet deep and under at least two feet of water. Furthermore, it was tucked in a rocky groove that appeared to present an unplayable lie. Rock considered a climb down the bank, but the water looked cold, and he would be in it nearly to his knees. He decided to leave the ball in place.
"I'll just take a drop," he said. "I'll wait 'til I can use John's ball-retriever to get that one."
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