Now well out of it, and riding the DFL train all the way to Suckville, I headed out just to save face. I was starting again on the difficult Darkside course (where my personal best was a 59, and I had just tumbled off a 75). Ash, who had really started to enjoy playing, decided to follow the women’s group to watch them play and see the differences. I thought that was great. (She incidentally learned quite a bit and enjoyed waching the women more than watching me projectile vomit all over a course, apparently)

I started the third round with the exact same beginning: 4-3-4 (on not particularly impossible holes) I almost cried. Then over the next three holes where I went 4-5-7, I ended up going 3-2-3, and within six holes, I was already 11 strokes better. Nothing flashy. In fact, my upping/putting cost me a total of at least 5 strokes that round. I came in with a respectable (if not amazing) 57. That’s an 18-STROKE-SWING! That must be a record. So far, though, I still hadn’t hit a putt outside of the circle. I’ve never done that in a tournament. And my ups with a putter were abysmal (I TRULY need to learn how to do that)

Anyone with a basic grasp of physics can tell you that won’t go in

After a quick lunch of PB&J (energy food for the impoverished), I met up with Ashley for the last leg of this Putridathon. We kept to our very staunch tradition of not taking any decent photos of the two of us. Case in point:

She’s cute, though she looks uncannily like her sister here

The final round was back at the Sunnyside, where last year I salvaged one decent round with a 54. Could I duplicate it? Not with a 5 on my first hole, including a missed 8-FOOT-PUTT! My whole card struggled. Here are some of the DFL troopers. Here’s Chase… putting in weeds… from thirty feet away… above a ridge… on arguably the easiest hole at the entire Grange.

I also threed

Mike hitting a gap. Not a regularity on this weekend.

I also threed this very deucable hole

See?

When all was said and done, I came in with a total of 250. That’s 56 strokes worse than the winner, and 18 worse than last year, which wasn’t particularly good then. I did not throw a single TIKI ace this year (in 10+ rounds), despite hitting plenty of metal. I didn’t drink and party at the Grange. So did I enjoy The Virginia Open?

You bet. If I have my druthers, I won’t ever miss this tournament. The people are great, the courses are fantastic (even when they kick your ass), and it’s just a great time.

Seeing Ashley was really particularly great. We both are living our lives as if we’re not dating someone in another part of the country – meaning we both aren’t sitting there pining and moping. But when we’re together, it makes us realize how hard (stupid?) this situation really is. I don’t regret doing it the way we are – it makes weekends like this seem otherworldly. I only wish they were otherworldly more frequently. Only five weeks until the next visit.

What happened to my game? I don’t know. I could blame my career and how much is on my mind. I could blame the girl in my life. I could blame the fact that I just don’t have the blind dedication to it that many others do. I could blame the fact that I have not thrown a single practice putt in over a year. But I won’t. I don’t know why I’m not playing well. And judging by how little I’m going to play, I won’t get any better any time soon. But I’ll still play, and hopefully get a little lucky here and there.

And now, the walking away.

(I didn’t deuce this easy hole either round)

After getting maybe an hour of sleep in our deceptively cold tent, we awoke and got ready to play THE VIRGINIA OPEN. Last year, I shot these scores: 59, 60, 59, 54 (the first and fourth score were the Sunnyside – the easier course – and the second and third round were the Darkside.) My goal was to do better than those scores.

But first, PHOTO OPS!

Can you spot me? I can’t.

I’m READY (I hope you can spot me now)

I tend to forget just how beautiful The Grange is. I didn’t take enough pictures of it last year, and sadly not again this year. Thankfully Ash stepped up and took this gorgeous shot of Sunnyside 16′s basket.

Well, the first round on Sunnyside was painfully close to last year’s uninspired first round. I missed nearly all of the birdie holes (of which there are many). While I didn’t take anything worse than a 4, I only took three birdies (all drop-ins). It was an unsatisfactory round indeed. I ended one worse than last year at 60. Pretty much if I had a putter in my hand, it didn’t go well (especially when it was out of putt range – I MUST learn to use a putter off the tee).

After a quick lunch, THE WHEELS CAME OFF THE WAGON. I will state right now that the second round was the worst round statistically I’ve had in the three years since joining the PDGA, and actually, I’d venture to say it was probably worse than anything I shot the year before that. I lost my ability to play, my drives, my putts, my ups, my mental game… etc. I had a total of two good shots the entire round. (I have a photo of one). The whole day passed and I had not made a putt outside the circle, and I had not thrown one satisfactory long-shot with a putter (I REALLY need to learn how to do that.) I carded a 75.

Let’s put this into perspective. Not only was it an 813-rated round (roughly 15-22 strokes worse than a typical round for me), but it was beat by many many many people that day. In fact, of the pros playing that day, only two did worse (one of the pro women and one of the masters – an over-40 player). Going even bigger, if I include the ams, who played it earlier, I beat a total of 14 players. 1 pro woman, 1 pro masters, 8 advanced women, 1 advanced man, and 3 intermediate men. That’s it.

After the first round, I was angry, upset, and pissy. I had a few great moments, but not enough to make me happy. By the sixth hole of the 2nd round, I was having a blast. How can you go mad when you throw 4-5-7 on three consecutive holes, throwing four out-of-bounds in the process?

Ash showed up just for the last five holes or so (thank GOD she missed most of it) and snapped me with one of my two good drives on this hole, modeled by Chase.

It’s a 350′ uphill hole with a narrow fairway. I threw an ACE run, and it got smacked down 9/10 the way there by that weird crooked tree you can see in the picture. And no, with a bad deflection, I did not get the deuce.

Ah, fittingly, I just noticed that with the clothes I’m wearing, this was NOT from the 2nd round, but from the 3rd round. So I only had *one* good throw that round, which was not filmed. But it was on this hole.

After some delicious dinner from the 2 Days in May Cafe, I decided I would feel better with some TIKI, hoping to reprise the glory I found last year by creeping into the Sweet Sixteen tournament. Who was my competition the first round? BRYAN SKINNER!?! WHAT!?? Skinny holds the record by the PDGA as the highest rated round ever (coincidentally on the course where I shot my 75). Not only that, he went on to win this year’s Virginia Open. So how did I fare?

Just like my 75, miserably. I was elimiated after just 7 holes. And still no aces. We threw another bunch of rounds. No aces. What is wrong with me?

Finally, exhausted and sore, Ash and I decided to Hot-Tub it and go to sleep early again. We weren’t the most social people there, but hey, when you get to see your Significant Other once every two months, you’re allowed some hermitism.

Well, it’s that time again: THE GRANGE. Definitely one of the best times in all of disc golf. Mike Trapasso and company put on one hell of a tournament, still with unrivalled amenities and great party atmosphere. Oh, and TIKI! But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

So SaxMike heads down to my place the night before, and he doesn’t show up until 1:30am, already a promising start. We get up at 7 and head on out, hoping to beat the traffic. And we do. Ish. Once we hit VA, it STOPPED. It took us 4.5 hrs to get to VA, and another 2 1/2 to get the remaining 45 miles. *sigh* By the time I finished setting up the tent, I only had time for some tiki in preparation. No aces, though I played even.

Sax showing how blurry his knee surgery has made him

He ended up withdrawing from the tournament after one painful round to preserve his knee (which had come out of the cast ONE WEEK AGO) I give him all the credit in the world.

From there, I drive to Reagan Airport to pick up the lovely Ashley, whom I hadn’t seen since leaving Reno in early March. w00t! After a detour to the Macaroni Grill, we hit the campsite and immediately played some TIKI!!! The girl’s got some MAD SKILLZ. Her first three throws were with my putter, and they were straight, flat, and necessarily far (she was in the center of the fairway and the correct distance on the tiki holes without putting more than 40% into it) Here she is, not playing disc golf.

MySpace-worthy

Without much partying, and very fatigued, we hit the tent before 11pm and were getting ready for some serious golf. After all, I had 5 months of miserable play to erase.

Now, since I don’t have many photos from this first day, here are some photos from a party at Jeff’s house a few weeks ago. (I just never posted them)

So, ignoring the well-chronicled Stick Incident of ’99, I have managed to pile up some recent heated stories between me and the men in blue.  In fact, all three of the following stories took place within a half-mile radius in my hometown, Elmwood Park, and all in the last three weeks, so maybe just the EP Police hate me.

1) I’m rushing to get to the train station, and I’m stuck behind a bus.  The bus is at a street corner waiting for kids to board – kids, I may add, who must have been coming from other counties.  The bus was there LITERALLY three or four minutes waiting for running children.  Also at this corner was a police officer, blocking off the side road where the kids were running.  Some joker behind me honks his horn.  I’m looking nervously at the clock, hoping to make my train.  Finally the bus goes.  The two cars behind it go, and then I go.  The cop walks IN FRONT of my car and starts pointing at me and yelling at me.  Unprovocated.  He’s saying “Why are you honking your horn?  Huh?”  And I’m yelling back, “I didn’t honk my horn!”  He finally lets me go after some more finger-pointing and yelling.

2)  On the same street, I am driving back FROM the train station a few days ago.  I’m going the speed limit 35, and as I’m driving, a cop on foot is crossing the street in the middle of moderate (not stopped) traffic, NOT IN A CROSSWALK.  I hit my brake fairly hard to let him go.  He literally starts yelling – I’m not sure which he was saying -  either “Why don’t you slow down?” or “Why did you slow down?”  Either way, I thought it was a pretty silly question, since I was *again* not doing anything illegal.

3) Last night, I’m driving on Market.  There’s an admittedly annoying and confusing traffic mess that consists of two sets of lights and a RR crossing, all of which are tied together (so when the train goes by, the lights turn red just as a precaution.)  So last night, I’m driving by there, and there’s TONS of lights.  There are two cop cars stopped by the tracks (blocking one of the two lanes in my direction and the lane in the other direction), and the RR lights are flashing (though the bars are up).  The traffic light then turns green.  So I’m confused what to do: there is an open lane, but there’s intimidating lights everywhere.  I am relatively new to the area and don’t really know a good detour to get back home other than going straight.  So I go up to the cop cars (on MY side of the tracks) to ask what to do.  Nobody in them.  I see three cops standing on the other side of the tracks.  I drive up to them and they all RUN over to my car, shouting, “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”  Here’s the conversation as best I can remember it.

ME. I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure what was going on.

FUZZ. [sarcastically] And all those flashing lights didn’t maybe make you think that maybe you shouldn’t go through?

ME. Again, I apologize.  I was driving up to your cars to ask you–

FUZZ. [interrupting] With two police cars blocking off the road you still go through?

ME. There was an open lane and the light was green.  I was trying to ASK you–

FUZZ. More blah blah blah blah yelling blah blah three guys yelling…

ME. I really am very sorry.

FUZZ. Just go through!

Why do the fuzz hate me?  It must be my sporty Saturn that intimidates them.

Werewolf Pinot Grigio 2005 – I’ve heard of Pinots that the good ones are very good, but the bad ones are abysmal. I didn’t bother with that sort of poppycock since even the ‘bad’ pinots I’d had were more appetizing than, say, the best cup of coffee. Well, I’ve found the stinker in the group. Now, I immediately expect to hear, “Well, you dink, it’s a gimmicky bottle of wine. It’s called Werewolf!” I will of course shoot back that one of my all-time favorite wines, Undead Red, is as gimmicky as it gets. In fact, perhaps the biggest problem with Werewolf is that there isn’t fake blood dripping down the cork.

Anyway, for wine purists, I would say ‘don’t drink this wine’. For a newbie who thinks that Pinot Grigio might be palatte-pleasing, I would say, “Don’t say terms like palatte-pleasing because you sound like a pretentious twit.” Werewolf was a weird combination of tart and unsmooth. I don’t use words like ‘smooth’ to describe wine, but if that was my normal vernacular, I would say this particular wine is “sandpaper”. It didn’t even taste like a Pinot, truthfully. It tasted like someone had a third of a bottle of Pinot laying around, and a third of a bottle of an old riesling that wasn’t very sweet, and a third of a bottle of chalk resin, and they mixed it with a rusty hand-held eggbeater.

It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever put into my mouth, as I still have coffee and tequila that dubitably take that honor, and it narrowly escaped the title of worst wine because of that one glass of Diner Wine I had, but it wasn’t good at all. Don’t be fooled by the picturesque moon on the label, or the fake ‘wolf’ scratch marks, or even the fact that it’s made in Romania and, therefore, might be ‘exotic’. It’s crap. 1.5/10.

Well, I’m writing about a tournament, which means I must have played respectably. And that’s what I did: not stellar, but respectable. The first round will not be discussed (see the aforementioned rule about not writing when playing like crap) That being said, I got HOSED that first round. This story is pretty much how my first round went on hole 17 (I started on 10, so it was less than halfway through the first round)

There’s a tight little hole that’s about 260′ with two small gaps (the picture is taken from an angle so the gap looks bigger than it really is). I threw a thumber – for those that don’t know, a thumber is an overhand throw that has a very specific flight path. After it hits, it most often gets another 30-50′ of bounce/roll. So I throw it and totally hit the gap. Then if you squint in the picture, you will see a stump in the middle of the fairway. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that I hit this stump. But do you expect THIS!?

I WAS STUMPED!

So instead of an easy drop-in after the roll, I have a 40′ putt, which I chain out on. So was my first round. On the easiest layout (easy tees to easy pins) I threw a +4 with only 2 birdies.

The second round, playing all 27 holes, I pick my game up a bit. I carded nothing worse than a 4 my whole round, and I threw 5 birdies (on the short tees to medium pins). Wonderful. The round felt good because I started crappy but ENDED strong.

Final round, another 27, this time from the long tees. I had a great group for this round, playing with guys I’d met and played with before, but nobody I really knew well. All great guys. Here’s some pics of them killin’ it. (Of course, Andrew, the one who really killed it, I somehow don’t have a picture of)

Tom Coffin, real name, killin a drive

Chase, color-coordinated to match the woods

Paul, emerging from a tree
The round started mixed. For the first four holes, I was the *only* one in my card to give myself putts at 3′s. Of course, I only got a 3 on the first hole, so it was mixed. I felt like I was playing well, but the score was meh. Then I took a circle 6 on the signature hole 14. After that, I told the group to tell me how much I sucked. From there, I took very good 3′s on two holes, and followed it up with back-to-back-to-back 2′s on VERY tough holes. I suddenly felt like I could get into the cash.

Long story short, I blew up the last five holes, putting myself at +5 on those five holes. But even if I had gone -5 on them, I wouldn’t have cashed. The first round killed any chance of that. But at least I averaged “above” my rating for the tournament unnofficially. I still like Seneca. It always whoops up on me, but I enjoy playing there.

Here’s a few more pics.

And Disc Golf Monthly TV was there, which is a fun little organization. Whenever Kevin has his camera on me, I tend to shoot very well. Here’s a five-minute run-down of the tournament, in which I make a few appearances (playing well!) Enjoy.

TOURNAMENT TRAILER

Oh, and I’m proud that my backwards-photo-taking-out-the-window-while-driving skills have not deteriorated.