My husband has been trying to get me to play frisbee — in all of its incarnations. Like a labador pup shaking a disc all doggy-eyed at his master, he comes to me with great hopes, disc in his hands, thinking that someday, just maybe, I’ll succumb to his floppy-eared cuteness and join him in a game of ultimate frisbee with his pals down at Bush Pasture Park.
No way, man.
So I promised him a game of frisbee golf. And while I knew I would suck from the get go, I didn’t imagine that he would tell me so before we even left our house.
“You’re not going to be very good,” he said.
“I know, thanks.”
“No, really, you’re really going to suck at this.”
“I know. Thanks again.”
“No, we don’t have to do this. You’re going to hate it.”
“Anything for you.”
Adam has his own set of Frisbee golf discs, which include a putter, a long-range driver, and two mid-range drivers. He carries them in a brown bowling bag that he picked up at Goodwill for $1.
You could probably recite the rules for frisbee golf while working the quadratic formula, baking a souffle and doing your taxes all at the same time. And while I can’t say I am enamored with the intricate culture that surrounds the game — backyard grilling has more relevance — I do rather enjoy walking around the sun-scorched grass in every direction, with arbitrary and often unsatisfying goals in mind (this has always been the draw of golf for me).
And I love rushing, urgent, into the wind.
We decided on Timber Linn park in Albany if only because we had to drive to it and, being a member of Tina Brown’s Gig Economy, I need every chance I can get to get out of the house. It seems to be a well-used course, with funny worn-down run-ups at the tees from which golfers have thrown discs for years. Adam says it’s an unconvincing course though, none too interesting, with too many straight fareways and not enough dog-legs. Next time, we might try the field at Cascades Gateway, a little closer to home.
You might think that I’m pulling your chain.
You might think that I am stalling because I don’t want to write a little story about how much I suck.
Well okay, cheeky monkeys, it is true. I did suck. It is exceedingly difficult for Frisbee novices to chuck a disc 400 yards and make it even half the distance without losing the disc to the wind, an overzealous sprinkler system, or a perfectly placed tree.
I generally had to make four, five, even six throws to hear that satisfying ca-chink! of the putter falling into the chained basket.
It was damn fun, though. I’m going back as soon as my arm stops hurting.
) who are, as my friend Karen says, “motivated to enjoy their time here.”
