ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, June 4, 1996 TAG: 9606040024
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: OFF THE CLOCK
SOURCE: CHRIS HENSON
On any Tuesday evening at Fishburn Park on Brambleton Road you'll probably run into a frolicking dog or two. If the weather's good you might catch a whiff of a hot dog or two on the park's new grill. You might see a huge woodpecker winging its way to the top of the old sycamore. Or a stubby box turtle tumbling into the creek.
But, heads up! Because in hard rain, blistering humidity or even pleasant weather, Tuesday night is league night for 11 of the valley's most fanatical golfers.
And this ain't no plaid-wearing, putter-wagging, cart-driving golf. No sir! This here's Disc Golf. And what may look like a bunch of grown men (ages hovering between 20 and 40) flinging Frisbees, is actually a growing professional sport with real rules, high stakes and healthy competition.
Tee time for these fellows is 5:30. That's when the game begins. On this recent Tuesday the Roanoke Disc Golf League is waiting for Rusty.
"Is he coming?" one eager player asks.
"Said he was," says another looking at his watch. "Let's go."
The guys line up at the first tee. Their goal is a metal basket raised on a pole about a yard off the ground. It lies several hundred feet beyond them, through a stand of trees.
They'll warn you that, while it's okay to tag along and watch, this is a serious match and you shouldn't be surprised at the staid atmosphere. Indeed, these 11 players have shelled out $25 apiece to play for 22 Tuesdays this year. The winner after four months will take home $100, the rest will be divvied among the three runners-up.
Rusty Vaughn Wilhelm pulls up in a cloud of dust just as the first discs catch the air. He steps from his car wearing a wide straw hat and fatigue cut-offs. He cranks his arms like a sort of windmill to warm up. Then he joins the others at the first tee.
"Whooooooeeeee!" he hollers after a cohort's drive glides way out there, then catches a breeze that tilts it right into position. "You boys are dangerous tonight!" So much for staid.
Mitch Hepner is throwing well tonight. He has been all year, as he proved a few weekends ago at a disc golf tournament in Kingsport, Tenn. About 120 people came to compete. Hepner came in second in the Advanced Amateur Division. After five weeks of league play, he is handily heading the pack. Points are accumulated over the 22 weeks. Players earn points for showing up, beating other players, and winning for the night.
Hepner, like the other players, has a bag with about 15 discs slung over his shoulder. "I won them all," he says as he shows off blunt-edged putters and aerodynamic drivers. They're smaller and flatter than traditional Frisbees and weigh around 175 grams. Free discs are the most coveted prizes at the big tournaments. "I don't think I've had to buy a disc in a few years."
Less-than-championship players can purchase discs at better sporting good stores, usually for under 10 dollars apiece.
Later in the game, Hepner spots a large Golden Retriever bounding towards him. "Looks like a Frisbee snatchin' dog," he says of the park's most unpredictable hazard. (Other hazards include water, ticks and poison ivy.) As the dog comes closer the players move to protect their discs on the ground. "Definitely a Frisbee snatching dog."
Because of the symbiotic relationship between dogs and Frisbees, the Professional Disc Golf Association has included provisions in its rule book for dealing with pilfering pooches. "Usually everyone has to agree on where to drop the disc," says Don Wetzel. "It would be nice if people could train their dogs to drop them closer to the basket though."
"Wait a minute," you're probably thinking. " PDGA? Tournaments? Rule books? What exactly is the deal here?"
According to the PDGA homepage, disc golf is "The Sport of the Future." And while professional earnings may not match those of Michael Jordan, there are professional players with corporate sponsors winning more than a few free discs. "Ken Climo won a total of $20,000 last year," Wetzel says. "He's been the World Champion for six years."
The calendar is full of professional and amateur tournaments all over the world. "Most big cities have disc golf courses now," Wetzel adds. "Charlotte has 3."
Rusty Wilhelm doesn't need to drive that far. "I've got a Frisbee golf course at my house up on Bent Mountain," he says. "First throw plays out towards a church. We play every Sunday and if you hit that church during services it's a three- stroke penalty."
The church's minister is comforted by the self-imposed incentive, Wilhelm says. That's probably due to an errant throw that startled the congregation. "It was about 12:15 one Sunday and I nailed the big white doors on the church. I know they were right in some heavy preaching at that point when `Boom!' the spirit hit 'em in a 180-gram package."
When the wind settles down you can actually hear the whir of a well-thrown disc slicing the air. They're played where they lie, just like in "stick" golf. The goal is to basket your disc in the shortest number of throws. When a disc hits the chains that hang above the goal, they ring out like industrial wind chimes, a victorious sound everyone notices.
Scott Bowman will tell you that anybody can play disc golf. "You got 16- and 18-year-olds who can get competitive in about a year's time," he says. "And then you've got people who just sort of toddle along forever."
Don Wetzel is proof that a little work will pay off. He's been playing for about five years. "At the beginning I didn't play that often," he says. "I didn't join the league until year before last. I came in dead last, I was pitiful. Then I started practicing every day, you know, working on the shots I missed a lot. And then the next year I won. So there you go."
Wetzel points to the guys in his league as the best in the Roanoke Valley. They play in tournaments from Fishburn Park to Augusta, Ga. And make a good showing. They bring home lots of discs.
And, whether it's winning discs, or $20,000, or just scaring a squirrel or two, each player gets something out of it. "I never played sports in high school," Wetzel says. "I look at it like I'm finally a jock.''
LENGTH: Long : 110 lines ILLUSTRATION: GRAPHIC: Robert Lunsford staffby CNB