Luke1
Eagle Member
After my podiatrist appointment today, in which I got my six year old wart removed by way of a scalpel (it's gross, freeze them early), I went for a round disc golf. I just went to play alone. I usually play with a couple of my friends, but with work, homework, and other complications, none of them could go today. So, I roll up to the course, pop my trunk and grab my bag. Simple Innova Standard with some Quadshocks, seven discs. I get to the first tee, and there is a group of five guys warming up, arm circles and whatnot. They asked me to join them, and I thought that was great. However, I was wrong.
I introduced myself, gave them my name and stuff. The first hole goes fine, all decent drives. Though I hit a tree about 250 ft out, and felt kind of stupid. But, I saved par, like all of them. Hole 2 was where the first problem was. It's about three hundred feet, blind and pretty far to the left. I threw a sky annhyzer forehand and it landed about five feet from the basket. Four people said, "Hey man, nice shot, that was pretty." One of them said, "I'd like to see you do it again." This struck me as odd. I let it roll off my back, though.
So, we go two more holes all pars. Then on hole five, I hit another tree with about 175 ft left until the basket. I walk up, pull out my Max, flick it low and left of the basket, it smashes the center chains. I was ecstatic, but didn't want to celebrate too much around the relative strangers, so I just did a little fist clinch in front of my chest, you know the one I'm talking about, just a little "Yes!" one. All but one person cheered or clapped. He said, "Boy, that was lucky. You know that is a distance driver, right?"
We get to hole eight, I get another birdie. He gets the same. And when I'm saying "he", I'm referring to the guy giving me some really bad vibes. I had driven first, and got within twenty feet of the basket, as I had the most recent better score of the group. He parks it straight under the basket. I told him he did a good job. He said, "I know." I made my putt. I parred nine, and was extremely pleased to be through the front nine three under.
Hole ten used to be a very easy, almost sure birdie hole, until they moved back and to the left, hiding it behind a lot of trees. I throw overhand and it glides close enough to be a birdie, but I missed the putt. However, before I putted, he said, "Wow, how many times out of ten does that shot work?" At this point, I'm seriously agitated. He happened to make a sixty foot shot with a buzz.
Pretty much the entire group got birdies on twelve. I also nailed one on thirteen. So has he. I'm five under and this point, he is four. On fourteen, which is about 450 ft, I shoot a worm burner into a fallen log a hundred feet in front of me. He drives around 400. Looks at me and says, "Lead change coming, buddy?" I walk up, pull my Wraith, overhand it, thirty feet from the basket after a very favorable couple of skips. Sink a par. At this point, I had to say "Maybe next hole." On that next hole, which is about 300 ft, I threw way too hard, and would have vastly over driven if I didn't hit a tree. I made birdie. Six under to four under. He says, "That's some lucky bounce."
I hate hole sixteen. A lot. It's short and to the left. Sounds easy, right, just back hand a mid. Well it is that easy, for everyone, except me. I can't birdie this hole to save my life. I have trouble parring it a lot. It's a terrible hole for me. I walk up, look around, and decide to try something different. I took my Wraith and just tomahawked straight into the ground about twenty feet ahead. It rolls, perfectly. Goes right under the basket, but kept going, and hit a log about fifty feet away, and did a really cool jump. He is beside himself. He says, "A roller, on this rocky course?" Whatever, I got par, I was happy. I hate that hole. He birdies it.
I got my only bogey of the day on seven teen. I slipped on the mud on the tee pad, hit a tree. All but one in our group got a bogey, and it wasn't him. It was just a cursed hole. Had trouble getting up the hill. No big deal. I'm still five under going into the last hole on the course. Great round. He's four under. Although I can't stand him, he's a very solid player. His friends congratulate him on what is his best round ever, they say. He says, "Nah, I shoot this good a lot." They dismiss that as a vast overstatement. I didn't care either way. He has first drive, gets in birdie distance. Says something like, "Going to have to match my bird, to win."
I drove last. It's a three hundred foot hole, way down hill. I can't say why, but ever since it came out, I've loved to toss a boss forehand ever so lightly and just watch it fly down and to the right into the green. I know it's not made for that, but it's glide just lets it go very smoothly. Plus, I'm throwing a very OATish forehand, so it works. It skips off the little rain gully in front of the green, straight into center chain. ACE! I high five all of them, except him. He is disgusted, "The luckiest shot ever, to end the luckiest round I've ever seen! With a ****ing disc like a Boss, no less. Wow, did you buy that disc hoping you could throw a thousand feet?" His friends tell him to calm down. He goes up and misses his ten foot putt, and storms down the path toward the parking lot.
Then I realize, he must have been jealous. He was wearing a disc golf polo. Had a Revo bag, full with about fifteen or more discs. And was about thirty years old. He throws a very pretty backhand with great form off of every tee. I'm eighteen, I haven't graduated high school. I throw forehand, overhand, backhand, and one hole I threw one of the worst rollers ever. I play seven discs. I got an Aviar, a Wasp, a 2008 champ Roc, a NS Boss, a star Wraith, a star Max, and a Z Cyclone. I saw that he had some beat DX TeeBirds, a few CE Rocs, an Augusta Wraith, a completely clear Buzz, and some other nice discs. I'm wearing a pair of beat up Nikes, he has some shoes with Vribram soles and stuff. He has some athletic cargo pants and I have a pair of Cinch western jeans. Yet I beat him. I can only conclude that he was jealous that despite all of his fancy gear, and his fancy form, that I was able to beat him.
Should I just forget about this, and regard it as simple jealousy? That's all I can think of. I didn't do anything cocky or talk any more smack than that one hole, because he was on nerves. I really didn't act too flashy or anything, like I would have if I was with my high school friends, goofing around. I just played. I talked with the group about different stuff, them asking about football or who we were picking to win in the NCAA tournament. Normal stuff. Yet I feel that, as I always do, I am reading too much into this guy being mad me, and that I need to let it go. Your thoughts?
I introduced myself, gave them my name and stuff. The first hole goes fine, all decent drives. Though I hit a tree about 250 ft out, and felt kind of stupid. But, I saved par, like all of them. Hole 2 was where the first problem was. It's about three hundred feet, blind and pretty far to the left. I threw a sky annhyzer forehand and it landed about five feet from the basket. Four people said, "Hey man, nice shot, that was pretty." One of them said, "I'd like to see you do it again." This struck me as odd. I let it roll off my back, though.
So, we go two more holes all pars. Then on hole five, I hit another tree with about 175 ft left until the basket. I walk up, pull out my Max, flick it low and left of the basket, it smashes the center chains. I was ecstatic, but didn't want to celebrate too much around the relative strangers, so I just did a little fist clinch in front of my chest, you know the one I'm talking about, just a little "Yes!" one. All but one person cheered or clapped. He said, "Boy, that was lucky. You know that is a distance driver, right?"
We get to hole eight, I get another birdie. He gets the same. And when I'm saying "he", I'm referring to the guy giving me some really bad vibes. I had driven first, and got within twenty feet of the basket, as I had the most recent better score of the group. He parks it straight under the basket. I told him he did a good job. He said, "I know." I made my putt. I parred nine, and was extremely pleased to be through the front nine three under.
Hole ten used to be a very easy, almost sure birdie hole, until they moved back and to the left, hiding it behind a lot of trees. I throw overhand and it glides close enough to be a birdie, but I missed the putt. However, before I putted, he said, "Wow, how many times out of ten does that shot work?" At this point, I'm seriously agitated. He happened to make a sixty foot shot with a buzz.
Pretty much the entire group got birdies on twelve. I also nailed one on thirteen. So has he. I'm five under and this point, he is four. On fourteen, which is about 450 ft, I shoot a worm burner into a fallen log a hundred feet in front of me. He drives around 400. Looks at me and says, "Lead change coming, buddy?" I walk up, pull my Wraith, overhand it, thirty feet from the basket after a very favorable couple of skips. Sink a par. At this point, I had to say "Maybe next hole." On that next hole, which is about 300 ft, I threw way too hard, and would have vastly over driven if I didn't hit a tree. I made birdie. Six under to four under. He says, "That's some lucky bounce."
I hate hole sixteen. A lot. It's short and to the left. Sounds easy, right, just back hand a mid. Well it is that easy, for everyone, except me. I can't birdie this hole to save my life. I have trouble parring it a lot. It's a terrible hole for me. I walk up, look around, and decide to try something different. I took my Wraith and just tomahawked straight into the ground about twenty feet ahead. It rolls, perfectly. Goes right under the basket, but kept going, and hit a log about fifty feet away, and did a really cool jump. He is beside himself. He says, "A roller, on this rocky course?" Whatever, I got par, I was happy. I hate that hole. He birdies it.
I got my only bogey of the day on seven teen. I slipped on the mud on the tee pad, hit a tree. All but one in our group got a bogey, and it wasn't him. It was just a cursed hole. Had trouble getting up the hill. No big deal. I'm still five under going into the last hole on the course. Great round. He's four under. Although I can't stand him, he's a very solid player. His friends congratulate him on what is his best round ever, they say. He says, "Nah, I shoot this good a lot." They dismiss that as a vast overstatement. I didn't care either way. He has first drive, gets in birdie distance. Says something like, "Going to have to match my bird, to win."
I drove last. It's a three hundred foot hole, way down hill. I can't say why, but ever since it came out, I've loved to toss a boss forehand ever so lightly and just watch it fly down and to the right into the green. I know it's not made for that, but it's glide just lets it go very smoothly. Plus, I'm throwing a very OATish forehand, so it works. It skips off the little rain gully in front of the green, straight into center chain. ACE! I high five all of them, except him. He is disgusted, "The luckiest shot ever, to end the luckiest round I've ever seen! With a ****ing disc like a Boss, no less. Wow, did you buy that disc hoping you could throw a thousand feet?" His friends tell him to calm down. He goes up and misses his ten foot putt, and storms down the path toward the parking lot.
Then I realize, he must have been jealous. He was wearing a disc golf polo. Had a Revo bag, full with about fifteen or more discs. And was about thirty years old. He throws a very pretty backhand with great form off of every tee. I'm eighteen, I haven't graduated high school. I throw forehand, overhand, backhand, and one hole I threw one of the worst rollers ever. I play seven discs. I got an Aviar, a Wasp, a 2008 champ Roc, a NS Boss, a star Wraith, a star Max, and a Z Cyclone. I saw that he had some beat DX TeeBirds, a few CE Rocs, an Augusta Wraith, a completely clear Buzz, and some other nice discs. I'm wearing a pair of beat up Nikes, he has some shoes with Vribram soles and stuff. He has some athletic cargo pants and I have a pair of Cinch western jeans. Yet I beat him. I can only conclude that he was jealous that despite all of his fancy gear, and his fancy form, that I was able to beat him.
Should I just forget about this, and regard it as simple jealousy? That's all I can think of. I didn't do anything cocky or talk any more smack than that one hole, because he was on nerves. I really didn't act too flashy or anything, like I would have if I was with my high school friends, goofing around. I just played. I talked with the group about different stuff, them asking about football or who we were picking to win in the NCAA tournament. Normal stuff. Yet I feel that, as I always do, I am reading too much into this guy being mad me, and that I need to let it go. Your thoughts?
