This story does not begin well.

We were standing on the 16th tee at Timmons Park and I was trying to explain how I felt about the Gateway Super Soft Wizard.

“See, it’s like that girl in college that looks exceptionally plain, but…well, you know…” I ventured. He was right. It’s the moped joke.

I like having mail delivered to my house addressed only to “Otis,” and when the plain white package arrived at Mt. Otis, I knew immediately it was a disc from Disc Golf Station. For lack of something better to do, we recently accepted an offer from the sales web site to give us a free disc a month on the condition that we review and link to it here. We’re allowed to say whatever we want about the disc and give an unbiased review. The company gives us a free disc and gets a link. (There’s your full disclosure).

Disc Golf Station sent us all the Super Soft Wizard, a putt and approach disc that purports itself to be the second-softest of all Gateway Discs. Again, this doesn’t begin well.

The disc is ugly. There is no getting around that sad fact. It has an old-milk color to it and the wizard printed on the front looks like it was doodled during a long economics lecture. It could be the ugliest disc I’ve ever owned. And if this is the second-softest disc the company makes, I can only assume the more rigid discs are called The Viagra. This disc is not soft and has very little bend to it.

We are a Champion Aviar putter blog. For the past two years, we’ve thrown the Champion Aviar exclusively. We’ve both adopted different putting styles in that time, but we both had no desire to switch away from the Aviars. However with a new disc to review, we set out on Timmons and left the Aviars in our cars.

I’d take you through the whole round, but let’s just cut to the chase: I didn’t miss a putt through the entire round. It was as if the 173g piece of ugly was on tracks from my hand to the chains. When the disc hit the chains, it didn’t bounce, carom, or skate off the side. The Wizard hit the chains and dropped into the basket like a rock.

I am not a good disc golf player. I am better than a beginner and I’ve been playing for a while, but I’m not really very good. So, it may be that the unfamiliarity with the disc made me concentrate extra hard, a college kid with a new girl for the first time, or something like that. Nonetheless, if I threw the disc at the chains, it went straight in and fell. Eltreedr had never seen anything like it. If I putted like that every round, I might actually be competitive.

Meanwhile, eltreedr was slower on the uptake. Apart from a spectacular 40-ft uphill putt for birdie on #8, eltreedr wasn’t putting with his regular accuracy. More often than not, the Wizard was dropping short. It took 18 holes but together we agreed the following:

After that, our agreement ended. I’m keeping the Wizard in my bag for now. If I keep putting like I did with it this week, I’m going to shave two or three strokes off each round. Eltreedr, meanwhile, isn’t sold.

“I’ve already put my Aviar back in the bag and taken the Wizard out,” he said today. “I don’t think it glides in a way that works for my putting style.”

He’s right about that. Over time, I’ve adopted a fairly aggressive approach to putting.

“The Wizard is actually better suited for your style,” eltreedr said. “You really fire at the basket, while I have a finesse approach, and I don’t think the Wizard has the glide I need.”

Conclusion: For $9.99, the Super Soft Wizard might be a putter you want to check out. Players with aggressive putting styles might be more suited for the disc, if they don’t mind their friends seeing them play with it or ride home on a moped.

From across a crowded course, I appear to be a player. I have a bag, a dozen or so nice discs, and a gait that suggests I know what I’m doing (until I fall into a culvert or something, at which point it’s safe to assume I’m an idiot).

My drive on #5 at Century Park today appeared to be an ace, until it fell a few inches behind the basket.

When I’m around, it’s wrong to assume things are as they appear. Even if I’m playing admirably for a couple of holes, you should assume (and rightly) that I am one of the biggest hacks that has ever walked an Upstate course.

I only bring it up because the five-foot black snake on hole #13 at Century Park today was not, as we first assumed, dead. Nor was it, as we later assumed, mortally wounded. In fact, it was not, as we assumed next, sick. It was, we discovered, just having a nap. Further, it was none too pleased at the tree doc picking it up with a long stick.

That is, it’s safe to assume that–and especially–if I am in the near vicinity, things aren’t as they seem and it’s best to let sleeping snakes lie.

Also, the snake plays better than me.

Not dead

Furman University lake

I knew nothing about the course, other than it was designed by Adam Benson and it was somewhere near the lake on the Furman campus. With that, I set out with my family to find it.

We entered the campus off Poinsett Highway and followed these directions (provided by the Furman web site):

From the Poinsett Highway Gate: At the entrance to campus, merge right onto the traffic circle and proceed ¾ around the circle, then veer right onto the Furman Mall. At the end of the mall, merge right onto another traffic circle, and proceed ¼ around that circle, turning right onto Ray Roberts Lane. At the stop sign, turn right onto a one-way street (no street name). Follow this street to the bottom of the hill, and the University Center is located on your right. 30-minute parking is available in the adjacent parking lot by the lake.

Problem was, we didn’t know where do go after that. Eventually, we walked around the back side of the lake and found the ninth basket. With that information, we walked the entire course backward until we got to the first tee pad, and then played the nine in the correct order.

A few general course notes:

If you do park in the University Center Lot, walk around the left side of the lake. When you reach the point at which you can turn right to go around the lake, a maintenance yard will be on your left. Directly ahead of you is a small structure that looks vaguely like a birdbath or something. There are two large holly bushes behind it. Walk in between them, across the Swamp Rabbit Trail, past the big black gate, and up the hill toward the golf course. There you’ll find the first tee pad at the entrance to a dirt service road on your right.

Take the path on the right

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#1 Tee at Furman

I played nine just to get a feel for the course. The following are my notes on each hole. Keep in mind, I’m an amateur player who falls somewhere between novice and intermediate skill level, as you can note by my horrible follow-through in the photo below (the disc, about 20 feet out from my hand, flew beautifully, however).

Drive from #1 at Furman

Hole #1: At first glance, this hole looks too long and tight to be easy. The fairway is a dirt service road lined by trees on both sides. The hole is moderately long with the pin placement on the right side of the road. Expert players could probably drive the basket. Players of my skill level will need two throws before the putt. It’s still an achievable 3 for most players.

Hole #2: After leaving the third basket, players will need to walk through the trees up toward the golf course. The tee is on a light rise. The fairway is wide, forgiving, and straight. The hole runs alongside the golf course and is another likely 3.

Hole #3: When leaving the second basket, go back through the trees and onto the service road to find #3′s tee pad. This is the first hole with real difficulty. It’s a long, soft dogleg to the right that will favor lefties. The basket is not visible from the tee pad. The first half of the hole requires getting out of the trees on the service road and back to the clear area near the golf course. After that, it’s wide open, but still a good distance. Good players will play this as a 3. Intermediate to novice will find it more likely a 4 or, eek, 5.

First half of #3 fairway

Hole #4: This is a fun little hole. It’s easily visible from the third basket. It’s a short straight shot that will be the scene of quite a few aces soon. That said, if you leave it short, it’s going to land in a pit of brambles and brush that will be a hellish lie. The hole is a possible deuce and easy 3 for most players–if you don’t ace it.

Hole #5: To find the fifth tee pad, walk out from the #4 basket and out onto the Swamp Rabbit trail. The #5 tee is right there. The hole itself is another short one, but this one is a little more technical. It takes a straight downhill shot through a couple of trees to get to the basket. I missed an ace by a foot or so. Without a mistake off the tee, this hole will be a reasonable deuce and easy 3 for almost everybody.

Hole #6: The sixth tee pad is off to the left of the #5 basket. Finding the basket is a bit of a challenge. It’s a tough dogleg right around a big patch of trees that will favor lefties with the ability to drive long. Righties with a solid anhyzer can play this one in three. I managed to get up and down in 3 and felt happy about it. An errant throw here that ends up going left has the possibility of nailing someone on the walking path. A really errant throw is going to end up in the lake.

Hole #7: Here’s another chance for an ace. It’s a very short putter shot in between two trees. There not much that can go wrong here (unless you over throw it and put it in the patch of trees that surround the basket on three side). Anyone who doesn’t ace or get a deuce on this hole will be upset.

Hole #8: The biggest challenge of #8 is finding the tee pad. Here’s how to do it. Stand in front of the #7 basket with your back to the #7 tee pad. Point to the right. Follow the trees at which your pointing all the way around to the right (it’s longer than you think it will be). After that, it’s a fairly short shot that fades softly to the right. Lefties will love this hole. Long lefties might ace it. As a righty, it was an easy 3 for me.

Hole #9: This hole stands out on the course. You’ll find the tee pad by walking around to the other side of the bathrooms. There you’ll wonder if somebody stole the basket. It’s a very long hole, the final 1/3 of which is scattered with trees. From the tee, look for the small statue of the little boy and throw in that direction. Then, find a disc that can avoid trees and you might find a way to get up and down in three. I’d predict most intermediate players finish with a 4 on this hole and feel happy about it.

* * *

A few closing thoughts: Any new course is a welcome addition to this community and we should all thank Adam for his efforts. He took a fairly small amount of space and made a disc golf course out of it. Top players will probably find the course a little too easy, but for folks of my skill level up to good intermediates, it’s a great diversion from playing some of the other courses in this area. If we can all somehow find a great place to park and don’t whack a mom with a baby on the walking path, we’ve got another fun course to hit.

Thanks, Adam, for all you did to make it happen.

My grip on the T-Rex held too long….maybe that 200th of a second it takes me to blink. It took the same amount of time for me to see the disc release and dart at a 45 degree angle to my right. The 8th basket at Century Park is to the left.

It was an operator error, a moment that my partner suggested, “We can’t blame the disc.”

I picked up my bag and started the long walk toward the seventh tee where my disc had come to rest. “Why do I sill throw this disc on this hole?” I yelled back.

“Because you almost aced it that one time,” the tree doc said.

He was right. Last fall, I’d thrown the same T-Rex in a perfect spike hyzer and missed an ace by a couple of inches. Since then, I’ve thrown the same disc every time on that hole. Because I’m an idiot.

The chasm between an ace and not-an-ace may be the deepest and most frustrating in the game of disc golf. It’s a horshoes-and-hand-grenades proposition. There is no pride in saying, “You know, I almost aced this hole one time.”

And yet there it is: that tantalizing moment on so many throws when everyone maintains perfect silence because the disc is going to fall directly into the basket. It’s a sure thing for those precious few seconds the disc is in the air. It’s hope suspended and pride assured. Until it’s not. Until it falls six inches to one side or the other. Until that moment everyone says, “I thought that was going to go in.” Until you walk up and take the next shot. Then it’s over.

Everyone knows the definition of insanity. The geniuses figure it out over time. The hopeful–the cockeyed optimists–they continue to do the same thing over and over on #6 at Timmons, #7 at Century Park, or #2 at Holmes. Or on any of the other countless other ace opportunities that present themselves over countless rounds and countless years in the game.

I have aced one hole since I started playing disc golf. It was on what used to be #13 at Timmons Park, back in the days when it was still the easiest hole in town. There is little pride in acing the easiest hole to ace. The pride has faded over the many years since it happened. The disc has its witness signatures and sits in an unused bag in my garage. I continue to define insanity every time I play, so why don’t I use that yellow Birdie anymore? I don’t know. Nothing about what I do out there makes sense.

The distance between my near-aces and actual aces is the difference between my real ability and my imagined ability. My real ability evidences itself in my end-of-round scores. My imagined ability–the talent I possess when I sit up at night thinking about a round–is mere inches away. Yet, the chasm between the two is wide, so wide that it’s hard to say whether I’ll ever be able to cross it.

That’s really the thing, I guess. It’s not about hitting the aces so much as getting close to hitting the aces. One minor change, one extra second of thought, one blink could be the thing that changes it all. It’s the moment where everything clicks. It’s elusive and probably not attainable. But it’s the reason I keep going out and constantly begs the question of whether continuing to be close is good enough.

I think it’s not.

That’s what we do. We fill our bags full of what we call discs. We call what we play disc golf. We actively deny the world “frolf,” as if it demeans our sport.

And maybe that’s the case. Maybe it’s a good thing to distance ourselves from the beach-throwers and picnic tossers. Maybe we should do all that.

But tonight, at least for this one night, let’s taken a moment to remember Mr. Fred. Morrison. It was back in 1937 that that man came up with the idea of a sort of flying saucer toy during a Thanksgiving meal. It started out as a lid to some popcorn. Then he made a new one out of a cake pan. He flew planes in WWII, then came home and made his first Pluto Platter out of plastic. His little toy got bought out by the the company we know as Wham-O. It made him a millionaire and–over time–led to this little game we like to spend our lives playing.

Morrison died of lung cancer this week in Utah.

He has our thanks.

With that in mind, here’s the best and worst at Timmons Park.

The Best: Hole #5

Without question, Hole #5 at Timmons Park is the most challenging and well-designed hole on the course. A tight dogleg right around a bend in a creek, the hole has the potential for disaster on almost every throw. Right-handed throwers must either lay up and drop their disc at the dog leg or throw a perfect anhyzer around the corner. Lefites can throw a long hyzer but run the risk of fading too much and landing in the creek that bounds the right side of the fairway from tee to basket.

The tee shot is only the first challenge players will face on Hole #5. Only top players are going to have an easy putt at the basket which sits on an incline and is 30% surrounded by trees. Everyone else is going to risk missing their second or third shot, and missing the throw can mean disaster. Tree roots around the basket can easily put a disc up on its side and send it rolling right into the creek at the bottom of the hill.

You’ll find very few players who put the disc in the basket in two throws, and most good players are going to be happy with a 3.

Honorable mention: Hole #10 is to lefties what Hole #5 is to righties and comes in as a close second for most challenging and best designed hole on the course.

The Worst: Hole #16

Hole #16 at Timmons Park is the answer to a re-design forced by a cranky Timmons neighbor who didn’t like a hole ending near his property line. Course designers didn’t have a great deal with which to work and we can’t fault them for how they ended up laying out the new hole. Still, it is by far our least favorite on the course.

A short technical hole, #16 is suited for lefties more than righties, but even left-handed throwers are often disgusted by their resulting throws. The fairway, such as it is, is bounded on both sides by thick trees and requires a perfect S-curve that starts left, fades right, and comes back left to let players drop in for 2.

As a right-handed thrower, I usually attempt a very gentle anhyzer off the tee. If I throw it with absolute precision, I have a shot at a 2. If I make even the tiniest of mistakes (which happens more than it doesn’t), I’m searching for my disc among the trees.

The Tree Doctor is a left-handed thrower. We disagree on how he should approach the shot. I believe he should use a very gentle hyzer. He usually opts for a maniacal roller that has as good a chance of landing on the 18th fairway as it does in the basket.

Adding to the hole’s frustrating elements is the fact that all but the first 25% of the fairway is obstructed from view after a throw. Once the disc rounds the first corner, it’s gone and you just have to hope it lands where you want. Without quesiton, we have spent more time looking for discs on this hole than any other at Timmons Park.

Dishonorable mention: Hole #14 was recently re-designed to make it a little tougher. The short hole over a small culvert is still the easiest (and in the Doctor’s estimation “lamest”) hole on the course. There’s nothing particularly wrong about the hole. It’s just sort of uninspired and a throw-away after holes 10-13, which are all fairly challenging in their own way.

Good luck to everyone in the Upstate Classic this weekend. Here’s to #5 birdies all day long.

Photos courtesy DGcoursereview.com

It’s not like he didn’t know this weekend was the Lake Eden Arts Festival (where we usually are on this weekend every year). It’s not like he didn’t know I couldn’t attend the festival and would be bored as a result. It’s not like he doesn’t know he signed me up for the Upstate Disc Golf Classic. It’s not like his last words to me before he left for San Francisco weren’t, “You owe me fifty bucks” for the entry.

No, he knew all this and still went off on vacation to the west coast and left me here with my bag of discs and a bunch of rain. He knew that I’ve been on the road and am getting rusty. He knows that I’m beyond terrified of playing in a tournament against good players when my ego can barely stand looking at my discs. He knew all this and went off on an anniversary trip anyway. This is the type of thing selfish people do. They leave their self-loathing friends in a lurch.

And so, as the Upstate disc golf courses turn themselves into swamps and all our friends go off to the music festival, I’m stuck wallowing in my own worthlessness.

It’s times like this when someone puts a Wii controller in your hand and says, “Hey! You like disc golf! Try this out.”

And that’s what I did last night.

Much to my surprise, the Wii Sports Resort game has a disc golf game on it. Players can choose between 3, 9, and 18 hole games. And it’s just about as frustrating as the real game, but for different reasons.

Here’s a video of a couple of guys playing.

I played 27 holes last night. Here’s a quick overview.

I played with two different downloaded Mii characters last night. I can confirm that the John Lennon Mii was much better than the Batman’s Joker Mii. The Joker was pretty self-destructive.

In short, if your friend sticks you with a dead weekend and the rain keeps you from playing solo, Wii Sports Resort Disc Golf is an entertaining way to kill an hour or two.

But don’t expect it to serve as practice for the Upstate Disc Golf Classic.

Fortunately, someone decided to rout all over Holmes Park and it’s given us a pretty great upgrade.

During a break in the rain Saturday, we decided to fit in a quick round at Holmes Park. When we arrived, we found new signs on every tee pad. The new signs are wooden and routed and all nine holes are now labeled with their hole number, length, and par designation. It’s yet another sign that disc golf is not on the wane in the Upstate. The more parks that get upgrades and regular maintenance, the more we’ll see new players coming to the game.

That’s a look at one of the new signs, a photo taken both in appreciation and with a suggestion in mind.

You might recall, the Tree Doctor is a lefty and a big one. Hole #6′s sign is placed on the right side of the front of the Number 6 tee pad. It happens to fall right in a big lefty’s throw path. As Doc said, “I’m going to hit that sign one of these days.”

When he does, I’ll laugh.

If it’s not too late to change, we think it might be helpful to move the signs a little farther off the tee-pads to give more room for the disc golfers to move.

In the meantime, kudos to whoever was behind getting the new hole signs at Holmes. May we all rout all over this land.

The sorcery in question happened on Hole #8 at Gower Park. It’s a shortish lefty hyzer alongside a tennis court with a small land bridge built over a nine-foot long, 15-inch wide cement drain pipe at the midpoint of the fairway. It’s impossible to say if my partner could’ve thrown his disc any worse or more inappropriately for the hole. The throw that came out of his hand turned into a wicked roller that ran for the drainpipe like dog-chased rabbit. In my heart, I–the constant loser–celebrated a bit. What was about to happen would be funny. I’d get to see a large man try to retrieve his disc from an irretrievable spot. The witchdoctor would finally be the zombie.

When the disc–against all laws of physics and religion–rolled out the other side of the pipe and up toward the hole, I think I almost cried. Like Charlie Brown lying on his back, once again Lucy’s optimistic victim, I had again been beaten by the doctor’s black magic. I probably used the f-word.

Like all things that happen on Upstate South Carolina disc golf courses, I vowed to put it behind me. Nothing good could come from lying awake at night, running formulas in my head, and falling asleep to dreams of that bastard laughing, laughing and laughing.

I would have forgotten it completely. It would’ve slithered its way into my subconscious, in that place where I don’t remember Daddy not taking me to the circus or the time that girl in sixth grade made an inappropriate remark about the size of my manhood. Indeed, I would’ve forgotten about it entirely if it hadn’t been for that day months later at Holmes Park.

It’s impossible to say exactly how bad my drive on #3 was. I know it probably didn’t make it halfway down the fairway before crashing into some sort of tree, bush, or invisible snowman. I simply hung my head, clutched my treasured Moray in my hand, and trudged toward the inevitably bad lie.

My release on the second shot probably wasn’t as good as it should’ve been. Nor was my aim. Nor was, if I’m being honest, anything about what happened that afternoon. And, I should point out, despite the relatively clear path from hand to basket, I lost sight of my antique disc almost the moment it left my hand.

By the time I made it to the basket, I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact I was going to bogey the hole. It was going to be depressing. Rinse and repeat.

I looked for my disc for a couple of minutes before the Tree Doctor off-handedly mentioned that my Moray could be in the giant pipe that ran underneath the nearby road. Probably three feet wide, the pipe ran a good 12 feet back before diverting off to some unknown hell. I stuck my head in the mouth of the pipe and with the little light available looked for that little circle of red.

I am not an easily scared person. I spent ten years of my life around killers, rapists, and thieves. I’ve jumped from high places, ridden Class 5 rapids, and driven a convertible at 135 miles per hour down a two-lane country road. That is a long way of saying, I didn’t want to see the Moray. I didn’t want to see it 12 feet down that long pipe in a pile of filth. It wasn’t because I was afraid of getting eaten by some Greenville underground zombie. It was for another reason.

I crawled to the back of the pipe where my Moray sat looking at me like a kid forgotten by his parents at school. That’s when I heard the noise. It echoed down the pipe like some maniacal woman. With my Moray back in my hand, I grudgingly followed the sound all the way back into the sunshine. There, I took a stroke penalty and double bogey on the hole. All the while, the sound continued.

It was the Doctor…laughing, and laughing, and laughing.

Tonight we’ll start with one good and one bad at Century Park in Greer.

Good: #14–Of all the terrific holes at Century Park (and there are many), #14 represents the best. I write this having never have shot better than a 3 on it, and having found myself in just about every bad situation the hole. I write this never expecting to be able to play the hole with any proficiency. I write this having seen my partner in crime absolutely implode on the hole just two days ago. The hole is an absolute monster, but in a very good way (think Cookie Monster with a six pack of beer). There is not another hole on the course with as many opportunities to get a stroke penalty. Here’s a list of ways you can end up with a penalty on the hole.

The hole has an exceptionally tight fairway. It sports a double-mando that forces accuracy off the tee. A hyzer or anhyzer is going to put you in a tree or the creek. It’s a hole that rewards players who can throw long and straight and set their disc down on the same path without fading into sure hell.

I’m right handed and I’m constantly afraid that, even if I get a lot on the disc, I’m going to fade into the creek at the end of the throw. I’ve come at the hole in as many ways as I can imagine. More often than not, I throw an anhyzer that falls to the right side of the kudzu and gives me a reasonably easy layup to the hole. Still, that’s not optimal, and I’m always thinking about better ways to play the hole.

Meanwhile, eltreedr is a lefty with a bigger arm. He doesn’t have as much worry about the creek, but occasionally, if he tries to get too much into the disc, he’ll overthrow and land right in the drink. That said, it’s a hole where he can almost always count on picking up a stroke on me.

Despite being one of my least favorite holes in the course to play, I think it’s probably the best hole in Greer.

Bad: #18–It’s hard to find a terrible hole in Greer. It really is one of our favorite courses. That said, #18 is probably the worst hole on the course, if only for the fact that it seems rather uninspired. There is nothing particularly interesting about the hole. It’s long-ish and messy with trees and an OB road on its left.

There’s really only one way to go at the basket–hard and long, right down the middle. If you can throw straight and long, it’s reasonably easy par.

If anything, Hole #18 seems like an afterthought, as if the design was perfect all the way through #17 and then the little grove of trees was the only place to put #18. It’s not a bad hole, it’s just not a very fun one on which to end a round.

For those who have played it, we’d love to hear your thoughts on how it could be made better, or of you think we’re just idiots (which, incidentally, we are).

Photos courtesy: Greer Recreational Disc Golf Club