Frisbee-golfing escapade mirrors overall collegiate experience

Matthew Walters September 19, 2013 0

ey, Matt! Want to go frolfing?” Of course I said yes. With a name like “frolfing,” how could I turn down my roommate’s request to play a game? A portmanteau of “Frisbee” and “golfing,” one engages in frolfing by throwing a Frisbee into a basket stationed several yards away, making each subsequent throw from wherever the Frisbee lands. Without stopping to consider the embarrassment I would soon face, I accompanied my roommates, seniors Nathan Blunk and Christopher Jackson, down to the start of the frolfing course, Frisbees in hand. As always, my inability to turn down a challenge outweighed my apprehension. I had no clue what I was getting into.

My roommates and I reached the first hole, between Founders and the tennis courts. We were joined by fellow frolfers senior Lucas Dayhoff, and sophomores Catherine Wilson-Martin and Michael Fiocca — more people to witness my frolfing failures. Much to my delight, however, I made par on the first hole. Even my roommates, avid frolfers that they are, fared no better than I. I felt like I had a shot at keeping up. Then I tried the second hole.

I quickly noticed that I couldn’t hurl my Frisbee quite as far as I needed it to go, nor in the correct direction, which was often straight ahead. Go figure. The rest of my competitors finished the second hole in three shots. It took me six. I immediately stopped keeping track of my score.

As we progressed into the woods behind Founders, each hole harder than the next, I decided to derive as much enjoyment from my ineptitude as possible. The rest of the crew seemed to appreciate my inaccurate throws and resulting disappointment, so I made an effort to do the same. Along the way, I caused some serious deforestation, slicing down countless branches with my buzzsaw of a Frisbee — yes, my aim was that bad. Each hole presented its own challenges and obstacles, the majority of which I promptly succumbed to.

Sometimes, my miserable aim put me in some prickly situations. Retrieving my Frisbee from huge briars was no easy task, but fortunately, I was only stabbed approximately 72 times. Hole eight required some extreme throwing technique, so I began to employ some guttural growls for that extra oomph when throwing, which amused my frolfing associates. At that point, I had lost all concern for the stab wounds in my legs and the competitive aspects of the game — I wanted to have a good time.

Hole 11 forced me to channel my inner mountain goat and retain my balance while throwing from atop a steep incline. I dug my new shoes into the ground to keep my balance, staining them a shade of brown. They were already tinted orange from walking through Brinser Field, so I didn’t mind. At hole 15, a glimmer of hope shone as I expertly threw my Frisbee between two tree branches that were mere inches apart. I was actually having fun.

Nearly an hour and a half after the frolfing escapades began, our squad had reached hole 17. I resolved to finish the hole within three shots. With a roar that could wake dormant volcanoes from their slumber, I whipped my Frisbee more powerfully than ever before. A poor release on the disc, however, rocketed my Frisbee directly upward into the air. The tree branch just above my head did not survive. While I gained no ground with my epic throw, the other players applauded my efforts all the way, until I got the Frisbee into the basket five shots later. Ready to take on the final hole, my roommates spilled the beans — hole 18 does not exist. Maybe it was removed, or maybe it was never made. Either way, despite my abysmal attempts at frolfing, I felt tremendously accomplished and wiped the sweat from my forehead with pride.

Bizarre as it sounds, my experience with frolfing mirrors the college experience in general. Opportunities upon opportunities unfold before you simply by your saying, “yes.” One experience leads to the next, and by remaining open-minded, you can take on each challenge with dignity and positivity. Having people with you who appreciate what you do makes each undertaking all the more rewarding. Obstacles — probably not tree branches in this case — will arise, but they can be overcome. Your enthusiasm matters more than your skill.

Joining Emotion even though you can’t dance? That’s hole number three. Travelling abroad next semester? That’s hole number nine. Starting your own intramural sports team? Hole number 14. Just remember that hole 18 doesn’t exist — it’s impossible to do it all. But do as much as you possibly can.

My question for you is simple: “Want to go frolfing?”

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