Finally, I popped off the tape that held together the two halves of the box and lifted the cover.  It took a split second, but a smile found it’s way onto my face starting with a slight twitch at the corner of mouth but soon extending ear to ear.  I reached into the box and pulled out three disc shaped items one orange, one red, and one pink.  A hush fell onto the room as people ended their conversation and wondered why I was staring at three Frisbees, and why the heck one of them was pink!

I knew what they were, of course, even though I’ve only held similar items on one other occasion.  A friend of mine showed me his once before when our families were together, children having a play date and parents having a few hours of conversation that didn’t include Barbies, tank engines, or a certain movie that includes cars with eyes and mouths that seems to dominate my son’s life.  He told me of a sport he’s been playing called “Disc Golf”.  A sport played not with ball and club, but with discs and baskets.  A sport played not on well manicured grounds but through woods, over water, and in fields.

After the party was over, dishes placed into the dishwasher, and children put to bed my wife told me how she called my friend and asked him to help select the discs.  She gave me the web address for the company she bought the discs from and we fired up the laptop.  I nearly fell off my seat, I couldn’t believe the number of discs I saw of all different types. Drivers, putters, floaters, approach, upshot, mid-ranges… the terms all started to blend together.  DX, Star, Boss, Avenger, Hyzer, Roller, Wraith, Buzz, JLS, Millennium, ESP, it seemed like every link I clicked brought something new to me.  One question turned into three to six to nine.  My questions were outpacing my answers but thankfully my thirst for knowledge outpaced them all.

It was long after my wife went to bed that I finally shut off the computer.  I’ve read articles breaking down the physics of a back hand throw.  I’ve watched videos of long bombs, incredible putts, and some guy making aces after ace.  Somehow I managed to break the code of a colorful disc rating scale… barely… only to realize that only one manufacturer used it.

After checking to make sure the doors were locked, the lights were off, and that the kids were sleeping peacefully I slipped into the bedroom.  I changed into my pajamas in the dark as not to wake my sleeping wife and slipped under the covers.  Still, there was one burning question I just couldn’t get out of my mind.  I reached out and gently shook my wife’s shoulder.

“Honey?” I asked in a whisper.

“Yeah…” she relied, barely audible not even bothering to roll over to face me.

“What the Hell is a Polecat?”

Please continue to Chapter 1

Chapter 1, Guardians at the Gate