Peru 2010 Hollllaaarrrrrrrrrrrrr

(Note: This post will include an ace and two epic videos. Enjoy.)

Possibly useless stat of this post:

Total Birdies Made, rounds 2-6. (I will not include the initial Mark/Sean round for obvious reasons.)

Sean: 20 Mark: 19 Andy: 10
Aaron: 9 Rob: 8

Jags, Peru, 2010--Commence the flight of polymer! And let us begin on hole one at Pieradise, home of disc golf H.O.Famer (inducted 2008) and tireless apostle, Allen Pier. I consider this one of the finest tee pads in golf--it is Allen Pier's back porch. And doesn't that say it all? The man took a hobby and made it into a glow-farm of D golf goodness. Some of you may not know, but besides being one hell of a D golfer, Allen has been building baskets (the exquisite "Spider-3," possibly the finest catchability of any basket) and designing courses (some of them legendary in IN: example Ross Hills) since 1979.

Thank you, Allen.

Up above this tee is a balcony. Wouldn't it be cool to fire one off from the balcony? Yes, but do Allen and Jeannie Pier want you in their house? Probably no.

Pieradise odds and ends:

1.) Course opened summer 2001.

2.) Many of these holes originally had a $50 Birdie Bounty when installed (in the long positions). The first to birdie got the $$. Hole 15 "long" still has the $50.00 birdie bounty and is the only one left.

3.) Allen even has long poles scattered around the course to help you pluck discs from trees.

This isn't really where it began. Mark and I had our own early round, as is our way. Just like last year, Mark takes the cardinal round of the day. I putt like Bafflement, while Mark calmly sang the chains. Mark has improved an already glow putting game, and that will bring agony, fellow Jags.

ROUND ONE: Mark: Even, Sean: +1

There were no big highlights here, though Mark did birdie the first two holes, important point, psychologically. You don't want to be down two strokes in two holes (I par both). The pins are in the B position, but not really. Why? They were moved for one reason and this is a theme for the weekend: WETNESS. We didn't get actual rain, but we got all the aftereffects of a previous deluge. But so it goes.

Mark in the water makes me happy, but it is only standing water, no penalty, so now that makes me less happy. Much of the course is soaked. Pools of water, of muck/fuck. A stench of mosquito spit in the air. But still, disc golf, so fun.

Allen had to move a few baskets and he chose to move them closer, make them easier. There was most likley no other choice. Still, this makes me sadful. I like Pieradise in the long or true medium positions. The course deserves to be itself, if that makes sense.

"Ho hum," Mark says, "think I'll just walk down this perfectly crafted fairway (Hole 5, a Pieradise gem) and make another 25 foot putt."

The Cleveland Order of Jags arrive. A little browsing of the pro shop, a little shit-talk and fist bumps, seems like everyone if eager to disc it up. We're happy to see Andy after his Ebola Virus scare during the Cincy Trip. He looks fully alive to me. Welcome back, Andy.


Loading the D quivers with discs. Beers popped, espressos (code for lattes) consumed, cashews in palms, let's disc:

ROUND 2 scores (in order lowest to high): Sean + 2 Mark + 4 Andy + 5 Rob + 5 Aaron + 7

A sloppy round, pretty unremarkable scores throughout, though I immediately noticed the Cleveland Office have tightened their games. Specifically, Andy's forehand flick tight and long (He would birdie 17). Rob with very few hammers (maybe two all trip and they sucked), but much better at recovery shots all around for par. And Aaron exponentially approved with mid-range shots. This would bring him phosphorescent truck-loads of pars. Sure, he shot +7 here, but would tighten.

Mark didn't putt as well this round (none of us did). The highlights were many ace runs by Sean (I'm going 3rd person, sorry) and Rob. We both nearly hit the basket on 11. And 18 was eventful. I had a slim lead and parked a Beast in the swollen creek. Anxiety like a nervous squirrel inside me. I then made a 30 foot for Bogey. Squirrel runover by my Subaru. Bye squirrel. But Rob had the second-best shot of the weekend. A 50-plus foot hyzer putt!! Ching!! Birdie on 18 for Rob!

Rob on hole 14 (an absolute beast. Hole is behind that fir tree. OB left, woods right. Big-time tribulate/hate hole, as in pain [though Mark actually birdies this hole in this round. All others bogey and I par.]). I always enjoy watching golfers play hole 14, the way you might enjoy observing weekend canoeists navigate a serious rapid--you can set up a lawn chair, a few cans of beer, and watch for days.

Jags also had a STAR PAR on 12! This means all of us parred the hole. Every person playing the hole, hole 12, made a par score. That hole, 12, we all parred. Par was the score for hole 12. Hole 12, all par, us. Score for hole 12, for all, par. So, yeh, we were happy, having made a Star Par, having made par on the hole, all of us, par, on that one hole.

Let's go get Mexican food.

We have to get Mexican because the Jags understand the mystique of routines. (Did you know Wade Boggs ate chicken, only chicken, before every game?) The Disc Golf Gods are always lurking. They live in the brown silt of lake-bottoms, the dust of your disc golf bag pockets, within the echoes of knocks of a disc on a tree. Culver's in Madison, Mexican in Peru. I imagine if we return to Columbus we will once again enjoy white wine in the restaurant of a yacht club.

Andy and I have substantial (oddly, they would not let me upgrade my tequila) margaritas and I start to feel good, that rotgut tequila coursing through my veins, a little jet fuel, a little dumb-skull, getting a little loosey and this makes me putt well later and maybe take a few more chances through trees and, well, shit, let's go to Honey.

Ah, Honey.

Built in 1978, folks, and still a dream.

Ace warning. Ace warning...

And some boisterous scores on the way:

Honey Bear, Sean do not fear thee. And look at those big-ass pretty cumuli. And I bought this huggie for my beer. I am extremely superstitious and glow the color green. As soon as I bought this huggie, I felt I would play well.


ROUND 3 scores (in order lowest to high): Sean -7 Aaron + 1 Andy + 4 Mark + 4 Rob +6.

Wild outcome, with Aaron in 2nd and Andy tied for 3.

It went like this:

Rob fishing for plastic trout.

Andy way down a ravine.

Aaron plays the entire round with ONE disc. This one. Interesting methodology, and it worked. Note his second place finish and highly respectable score this round.

The course was wonderful, per usual, with the added bonus of substantial water in play. Aaron rounded the turn at EVEN. I was at -2 and then went stoopid, shooting another 5 under on the back with this as # 17: choose my trusty Star Stingray (a Boondocks ace disc), let her fly:

ACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yahhhoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

That feels glow and I also picked up a 4000 cent ace fund. Thank you, gents. I will spend the money on corn tortillas and a new driver (spoiler alert).

(I once fell into a LA ditch for that exact disc. I lost my phone, soaked my wallet, and destroyed my mom's key-chain full of photos of her grand-kids. It was worth it. I got the disc.)

Other highlights were Aaron's overall score, Rob's birdie on 17 (never easy), and STAR PAR on hole 4. This means all of us parred that particular hole. All of us, par.

More beers, more espressos, let's caterwhomp over to ROUND FOUR of the day.

ROUND 4 scores (in order lowest to high): Sean -2 Mark EVEN (or as someone put on the scorecard "-0" OK) Rob + 2 Aaron + 2 Andy +4.

We get to hole one of ROUND FOUR and Mark throws a decent mid-range shot well past the hole and Aaron emits this massive ululation; he goes,

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

So we all look at him, like we freeze and give him this WTF? inquisitive stare, and he sheepishly says, "What? I thought it hit the basket and then rolled in and then rolled out and I swear that's what I saw."

And we shook our heads. There might have been tongue-clucking. Definitely shaking of heads. I cracked open another beer.

Aaron said, "I swear that's what I saw."

An owl hooted in the trees. The sun yawned.

Aaron said, "I did. Really."

After that business, another typical Honey round, wild shots, plenty of birdies and bogeys. I step up to hole # 2 and grab my Stingray and bang the basket! Bounces out. Highlights include a STAR PAR on holes 3, 14, 15. This is pretty sweet because it means all of us made par. I also thought Rob's steady +2 round was impressive. He's known to fall off when shooting a good round. Not this time.

Aaron is a blur. No, really, Aaron is a blur. Did I mention the incredibly random screaming?

Andy cranks a turnover. A typical Honey hole. Basket on the right, hugging a cliff. The design and history linger on...

We reload. Beer, espressos. Mark says, "I will shoot under on this course."

Indeed:

ROUND 5 scores (in order lowest to high): Sean -5 Mark -5 Andy EVEN Rob + 2 Aaron + 5.

Postures of fatigue? Possibly.

I don't think the two -5 scores show evidence of fatigue, but then again Mark and I are both runners. Other factors might be declining sunshine, accumulation of beer and latte effects (uh, Aaron), etc, but the fact is we had four bogeys and a 5 on the last two holes.

Most impressive was Mark's -5, since he publicly stated he would shoot under. I thought Rob's + 2 (back to back now) was also impressive, but what if he had not bogeyed three of the last four? What if?

OK, back to the hotels. Mark and I stay in the Circus Inn. Can you handle prints of clowns staring at you as try to sleep?

You could if your option was where Management placed the Cleveland Office. It was shuddersome. Paint flaked off the walls. The doors of the empty rooms yawned open like toothless mouths. The whole place smelled like ass.

The actual door to the Cleveland Office room...

OK, well, you do what you can. So Mark and I drove over and drank beers and I tried out the Cleveland Office's new espresso machine. Wild. Also the Celtics beat the living shit out of Orlando on TV. Then Mark and I unstuck ourselves from the room and went home. Tomorrow?

Mississinewa.

ROUND 6 scores (in order lowest to high): Mark +5 Sean +7 Rob + 15 Andy + 18 Aaron + 20.

24 holes. The fucking course is submerged. 6950 very wet feet. Does that include the extra 6 holes? I don't know. Established in 1985 and shows: The baskets reminded me of the Mad Max films.


The first few holes are tight and difficult. Example: Hole one, Andy below. Click on the pic and see how my Jesus Phone caught the disc in flight.


I lose a disc on hole four, in the dense undergrowth. A disc I really love. I felt this was a bad omen. This disc-loss gets me in a funk. My feet are steeped and muddy and I'm not happy. I reach for the disc in my bag, but it's gone. This is called phantom disc syndrome, or PDS.

This is called mental weakness. Key word, weak. You can't let an early set-back define the round. First thing, everyone plays in the same shit. Second, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You think you aren't clicking so you do not click. It's like putting. Missed putts lead to missed putts. Made putts lead to made. In hindsight, my funk disappoints me. It's something to think about, for me. Toughen up mentally, freak-o.

Let's move on.

Tight holes open to more sprawling ones, but still with shot-making. I mean you need ALL shots for this course. Example, sprawl hole:


We leave the numbers. We go into the "Letters": Holes A, B, C, D, E, F. These are tough. Reminds me of Blair Witch, a reference Ander will get. I don't mean the film. I mean a series of holes in Colorado. Here, Indiana, you get tee-pads, but no yardage. These holes are tight, gnarly, and include a hole I will now label, The Head Scratcher.


If you want to know why Andy is scratching his head, you should click on the photo. That pond is long. Deep. The water looks and smells like horse piss. Frogs croak this in low jazz notes: "YOURR FUUUCKEDDDD." You aren't going in that "water" to get a disc, period. There is NO bailout. You have one option sans throwing over the lake: toss down the very path you walked up behind the hole.

That's clearly weak, but maybe reasonable, too. (Reminds me of Riverside in MI, those that would skip an entire series of holes, but I digress. And anyway, not a great comparison. No Jag actually "skipped" the hole. They played it, just down an alt path, and with consequences (6's). In MI, people actually picked up their disc and walked on, past many holes. Refused the actual holes. I always wondered, "What score do you give yourself when you don't play a hole?" I think the answer, at minimum, has to be 8. Right?)

Having said that, I threw a terrible forehand. A scared shot. So who am I to say? It crashed waaaaayy right over trees lining the pond, and into a swamp of shit. Andy and Aaron threw their discs sideways, down the pathway we walked to the hole. They declined to try the lake of shit. That's fine, as I posted above.

What about Rob and Mark? Both had huge stones, though different results. They played the hole, as opposed to being weak. Let's go to the tape:



Watching this I realize three things:

1.) My commentary is slightly insane. Maybe drunk?
2.) Mark had the stones to really go for it, and for that, hat tipped.
3.) Look at his expression last frame. Pissed. Cool thing about video is it catches the essence. He is not happy with that shot.

What about Rob? "You got it, you got it!" Sean yells.



Damn, son, Rob with a BALLS shot. This be Kudos. And the round goes on.


Mark in the shitazz. Can you even see him? But Mark recovers well.


This basket is about to fall over. Mark doesn't care. He nails a 25 footer on hole F for birdie. He nails a kick-ass shot (later) on #14 for a major birdie. Pulling a way a bit with his putter.


Blow this up and look back there--Biker disc golfers. In leather chaps even. We Jags found ourselves surrounded by screaming groups, bellowing herds of 8, 9, 10 disc golfers. They all carried one disc each and screamed constantly: WHOOOOOOOOOO, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS, YOWWWWWWWWWWW, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Pretty epic. And you can't say D golf doesn't bring it out of people. If nothing else, these fuckers were engaged in the game.

As you can see by the scores, I did not play well and the course absolutely kicked the ass of the Cleveland Office. I want to make a special note for Mark here. This course is a snake and a bear, a Snear (pronounced "snare"). Mark got out of trouble. Made two huge bomb putts. Stayed in his game and slayed. So kudos there.

OVERALL WEEKEND

Sean: 3 wins
Mark: 2 wins (one without Cleveland Office, but he shot a score I can safely say would have won with full contingent; and who is say I would get second with the Cleveland Office on the course?)
Mark and Sean: 1 tie for win.

I should tally up all the other 2,3,4 places for everyone but fuck that, you do it, I'm lazy. We are going with wins.

I'll end with a warning. Aaron seems to be a lot better, and the others are sharpening. But the warning is one word for you Jags. The word is Mark. He be forming offshore like a hurricane and he's headed our way.

S