Editors Note:

EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Friday, August 24, 2007

Lord of the Soaring Orb

God of Disc GolfBack in the early 90’s, when not studying at The Roy Park School of Broadcasting, I played a lot of disc golf. A Lot. Most days I’d be outf the studio door before the noon newscast's closing theme ended, eager to fill my ratty Toyota with a few fellow derelicts and spend the afternoon hurling pockmarked discs at chain-link mirages. They were the last days of an extended boyhood and I and my pals made the most of them - even if we did look like roadies on the lam from Pearl Jam. I was never all that good, mind you, but the slacker in me savored the pace of this low-impact sport. Usually, somewhere between the third and fifth hole, a bleary-eyed buddy would lean in and with a dry mouth remark how righteous it was that our sacred game was invented 'right here in Greenville'. Never knowing just how true that legend was, I always answered by launching my own colorful orb, until it invariably took a chunk out of a poor defenseless pine tree.

Fast forward fifteen years or so. Bob Buckley and I emerge from the chilled interior of Unit Four and walk deep into the Surry County smolder. There we’re met by an unassuming fellow in his fifties, a sliver-haired sprite who quietly tells of that day in the late sixties, when he staked a hula-hoop to two makeshift poles, gathered up a handful of Frisbees and invented a game of tactics and plastic. Sadly, George Sappenfield is a Californian, but he did work in Greenville for a time and his sublime game has had a fabled Downeast connection ever since. But Buckley and I hadn't driven up twisty-ass Highway 89 just there to reminisce. Shortly after the on-camera ended, Bob and George set out to a throw a few holes, while my tripod and I sweated in the hundred degree sun. Heat stroke aside, it was an honor - for while George Sappenfield may have never made a dime off his Frisbee epiphany (leave that to the shills at Whammo!), he can go to his grave knowing he helped enrich planet Earth with a most serendipitous endeavor.

Sure hope he likes this profile.


turdpolisher said...

sweet. played a little in college. drank more than we played.

Anonymous said...

Will I still be pretty?

www.avila-3d.com said...

There's no doubt, the guy is completely right.