I bogied hole 1. After 2 holes, I was +4. I don’t care if it was a par 1 course, this was unacceptable. It would be okay though, I could pull it together. After all, hole 3 is my bread and butter. A birdie here and a birdie on hole 4, and I could save this round.
I step back. I focus on my breathing. I’m imagining the path my disc will take upon release. My lead up cross-step feels great. I twist my hips, snap my wrist, and… I have no clue where my disc is.
Instead of lightly traversing through an opening in the trees and landing safely on an open plane the size of a football field, my horrendous throw has forced me into a scavenger hunt for my disc and has left me know clues to start with. About 10 minutes later I add another bogie to my already astronomical score.
The lake on hole 4 swallows my Wraith. Hole 5 is another bogie. I took 10 mulligans on hole 6. Literally. 10. Hole 7 is a double bogie. Hole 8 is the epitome of terrible putting. I don’t feel comfortable sharing how many extra puts this hole required.
And then, hole 9. An elevated tee, with 50ft. tall trees on both sides all the way down the hill to the pin. The odds of hitting a tree and knocking my disc 20 feet off the path are high, because that’s what I usually do on this hole. Considering how my day has been going so far, I pretty much expect this to happen.
But it doesn’t. When the disc came out of my hand, it was as if it was being guided by an angel. It gracefully mirrored the slight curve of the path and bypassed every potential obstacle, landing peacefully at the base of the pin. Ah, birdie.
I don’t remember what happened during the rest of my game. I just remember arriving home thinking, “what a great day of disc golf”.