To disc golf or not to disc golf, that is the question

What more could you possibly want? SEAN McCLAIN WWW Editor Nothing could be better than hanging out with your friends, walking through the woods relaxed, joking and having fun. Right? Wrong. Add in some disc golf, then you’ve got a great afternoon. Disc Golf, more commonly known as Frolf, is a popular activity with many of Ames High’s students. The WEB asked two of Ames High’s most experienced Disc Golfers why they think the sport is so appealing to students, and where they prefer to hone their skills. One of the best aspects of disc golf is the relaxing atmosphere surrounding the game. “You just get to walk around all casual throwing things and chillin’ with people,” senior Luke Stephenson said. A big reason it is very popular is the fun times with friends. “Listening to (senior Jordan) Bergman swear constantly after every throw, even if its a good toss, is always fun,” Stephenson said. Also, the skills needed can make it a good time. “Making a sick putt is always a good time,” sophomore Trevor White said. But White also stressed you don’t need great skills to have fun. “You don’t have to be insane at it to have a good time” Ames is a very Disc Golf friendly town, with two different courses, one at Gateway Park and one on 13th Street. “I like to go to the 13th Street course because I live close to it,” White said. Others prefer the original course at Gateway, though. “ The old course is clutch,” Stephenson said. “Even though I live just down the road from the 13th street course, the old one is much better.” Stephenson had some last words of advice for new Disc Golfers. “Don’t call it frolfing, don’t refer to yourself as a frolfer, don’t try to look like you know what your doing,” Stephenson said. “And remember, it’s all in the flick of your wrist.” “Don’t buy 2 of the exact same discs,” White warned new disk golfers. “And nobody can be worse than Doug McDermott…” For all the reasons listed, disc golf is a great time. And in the words of The Web’s own experienced disc golfer, Lawrence Chiou, “Disc Golf is epic.” If the Greeks didn’t, why should we? MICHAEL BRUNER Copy Editor Disci play an important part in Greek culture and mythology; in the most prominent example, the hero Hyacinth tried to catch one thrown by his mentor and paramour, Apollo, and was killed. From his blood bloomed the flowers that now bear his name. Before my foray into the world of disc golf (i.e. Wikipedia), I had hoped that something as beautiful as a Hyacinth could come out of it; by the end, I wished I had been struck dead. Disc golf is a fusion of two reputable sports, Golf and the Discus throw. The rules are virtually identical to golf, except that the holes are replaced by baskets and the ball and club by a flying disc. However, it eschews the traditional stone, wood, or metal disci used by the Greeks and modern-day Olympians in favor of the thin, plastic discs known contemporarily as “Frisbees”. Like Ultimate Frisbee for Football, this works as an ersatz substitute for Golf, a sort of poor-man’s athletics. Normally, this is an admirable and enjoyable, if somewhat pointless, pastime, like similar faux-sports. What can be sinister about so unassuming a venture? The answer is that it is not unassuming; the organizations, the tournaments, and the “competitive disc golfing scene” – the preponderance of every Hall of Fame, every league, every membership and course fee, every iota of fruitless regulation and bureaucracy all reveal the sad, sorry truth. Disc Golf is a joke. Not a harmless joke, not a clever joke, but a sad one; disc golf is the man who arrives in costume to a black-tie affair, without invitation, and demands admission; it is the solecism still hanging in the air, the silence which embraces it, and the speaker, smiling nervously as everyone stares. It is a disgrace. Case in point; Kenneth R. Climo, nicknamed “The Champ”. A twelve time PDGA (yes, it’s the Professional Golfer’s Association with a ‘Disc’ grafted to it, much like the sport itself) winner, he is widely regarded as the best disc golfer of all time. While it’s nice that there’s an alternative sport in which an American is actually the best (eat your heart out, Kobayashi!), what has he sacrificed? He admits, on his website, that disc golf keeps him away from his son, and as a result that they are not as close as he would like; what has his sacrifice accomplished? His Faustian bargain with whatever demons disc golf could employ (dreary ones, I imagine) has left him with no real gain except an illusory, ephemeral, and ultimately worthless renown among a minute clique of so-called enthusiasts. In summation, competitive disc golf is a joke in such poor taste as to lose all semblance of humor; recreational disc golf is less so, but the lack of conviction doesn’t make the sport any better, only associates its participants with it somewhat less closely. Really, just play real Golf, or real Discus; that, at least, impresses rich people.