I pulled out my Sidewinder, took four steps, cocked back my arm — remembering to keep my thumb pointed down — and let it fly.
As my disc flew up and to the right I groaned and thought, “there goes another bad drive.”
My troubles only seemed to compound upon themselves as the disc clipped a tree, and then the unthinkable happened.
No, a California Condor didn’t drop out of the sky and carry my disc away.
I heard the soft sound of plastic hitting metal and I thought, “sweet, it glanced off the basket and it’s close enough for a birdie putt.”
I started forward to look around the trees to see where it was laying one of the guys I was disc golfing with said, “I think that went in the basket.”
I thought there is no way that my shot, after kissing a tree, had had any chance of going in the basket.
But, sure enough, it had. I had my first hole-in-one in disc golf. I could have kissed that tree with two lips instead of the edge of a golf disc.
I’ve been golfing off and on — both ball and disc — for around 12 years. I was introduced to both by friends and, up until three weeks ago, I had never had a hole-in-one.
I was excited but, after looking at the faces of the three guys I was throwing with, I had to contain my desire to jump, scream and shout.
(I had stopped at Windsor Park in North Bend after covering a sporting event and after throwing the first five holes by myself I was invited to join the threesome ahead of me.)
After about 15 seconds of uneasy silence, one of the guys said, “I guess I could give you a high five.”
Anyway, the hole-in-one cemented my love of the game.
I still love ball golf, and will play when I can, but it’s expensive. For the most part disc golf is free.
If you’re interested in finding out more about disc golf, check out the story on Brookings-Harbor and Crescent City’s golf scenes.
Hopefully, I’ll see you kissing your own trees on the course.