Sometimes, it is best just to let the shots fly.

At the 514-yard third hole, his second shot flew over the top of the flag and stopped about 15 feet past the pin.

His second shot flew the fairway and landed in the first cut.

In a moment the shots were flying all around me; one went home into the fuselage just behind my seat.

The shot flew wide, but hit close enough to the leader to slow his pace.

His shot hit the pillar, the corner of it, and flew past us all.

Then again, the condition might simply have been a product of watching their shots fly in the opposite direction.

Their first shots had flown far over and crashed into the forest beyond.

However, his shot flew over the flag and wound up three feet away.

Sure enough, his shot flies way over the bar.