Note: This is part 4 in a series of posts which make up the chapters of a tongue-in-cheek look at the game of disc golf and why we love it so much, despite the lack of reciprocated affection. It is not actually intended to improve your game…unless it does…in which case we’re happy to take the […]
Note: This is part 4 in a series of posts which make up the chapters of a tongue-in-cheek look at the game of disc golf and why we love it so much, despite the lack of reciprocated affection. It is not actually intended to improve your game…unless it does…in which case we’re happy to take the credit.
Chapter 4 – Achieving True Disc Lust
In my experience, it doesn’t take long for players to find themselves in need of new discs. Remember the plastic grocery bag that you used to carry your first discs around the course? It will quickly be replaced with a starter disc bag, which will then be replaced with a full-size bag, which shall logically be replaced with a backpack, which shall then be replaced with a small pickup truck with two drink holders, Bluetooth speakers, a retractable stool, and a shade canopy.
It is a disease. Face it. There is no cure. I overheard a teenage player tell his mother once while perusing bags in the local disc golf shop:
“Hey, honey, this one looks great,” pointing to a popular competition bag that holds about 16 discs.
“No, Mom! I’m going to get the one that holds 150 discs. Not that puny thing!”
I scratched my head, trying to imagine which portable bag holds 150 discs, then came to conclusion that he is probably of the Harry Potter generation, and if he could imagine it, then it must exist in the real world! Muggles…
That illogical quest for bigger, better bags and carts that hold more discs is real, because there is yet another level to disc acquisition which stretches far beyond the actual game. There is a state of mind that endangers nearly all disc golf players. You’ll know you are infected the first time you walk into a disc golf shop and you see a shiny, smooth, colorful disc with a unique stamp design, or just the right touch of milky swirls that hypnotize you from deep within the plastic. Suddenly, you don’t care what that disc does when you throw it. In fact, if somebody were to lift it and cock their am back, you’d yell, “No! What are you thinking? Get your dirty hands off my baby!”
Sure, you may still ask questions like, “Is it overstable or understable?” But that is merely a question, like “Is it a girl, or a boy?” You really don’t care about the answer because you already know in your heart that you simply must own that disc. You now have an official case of “disc lust”. There’s no cure, except to stay away from smooth, round objects, and we know that’s not going to happen.
I remember a day when I was looking through a pile of new discs, doing my best not to think about how pretty and untarnished they were. Red discs, purple discs, blue discs, swirly discs, sparkly discs, and then– like the devil himself, tempting me beyond my capacity to resist– a disc with a full color image of a donut on top. It was a cake donut! With sprinkles! It wasn’t fare! I asked what kind of disc it was, how it flies, if anybody has experience throwing one, etc. The replies went right through my brain like water through a net. Heck, I wasn’t going to throw that thing anyway. Why would I want such a work of art dinged-up by chains, or scratched by trees and rocks, or soiled by…um…soil?
I’ve seen countless players buy new discs that will never be given the opportunity to fly. I’ve seen players buy multiple copies of the same disc merely because they had to have as many color variations as possible. I’ve even seen people snatch up misprints with double-stamps and messed-up tournament stamps because the beauty was in the supposed flaws. It isn’t just a matter of collecting. It’s a passion. The good folks working at the disc golf shop don’t hold it against you. After all, it’s your disc lust that helps pay their wages. But they also sympathize, because whatever wage they are making, it isn’t enough to afford that secret disc stash that every one of them has in a box, tucked away in a corner, or high on a shelf, waiting for the day that never seems to come, when they too will pull those plastic circles to their hearts and with a raspy whisper declare, “My Precious…”
Coming Soon: Chapter 5 – The Need for Companionship