Gripe No. 46: People disc golfing in Crocs

I’ve not pulled the wool over my own eyes …

I know this is an incredibly dumb topic.

Having admitted as much, please …

Spare me the following in the comments:

• “You worry about you and let other disc golfers worry about themselves.”
• “Keep disc golf weird. Don’t try to drag a dress code into our sport.”
• “If this is such a big issue for you, you should give ball golf a go.”
• “F*ck you.”

These are ALL valid points …

I agree with (most of) them, too.

I’d compare my feelings towards Crocs in disc golf with watching somebody bathe a premium, well-prepared cut of filet mignon in ketchup. On the other side of the steakhouse, I’m not the one eating it. Heck, I’m not even the sorry sucker with the person eating it – and still, it’s infuriating.

Why?

It’s a missed opportunity.

To get the most out of a quality piece of meat, you don’t douse it in crimson kid goop. Guided by a talented chef, you let the meat speak for itself – it doesn’t need your help. If you’re craving ketchup, hop atop your booster seat, speak into the clown’s mouth and eat chicken strips.

Rest assured, there will be plenty of time for the ball pit after you’ve cleaned your plate.

Similarly, if you want to get the MOST out of your disc golf game, don’t actively hinder it – the sport’s hard enough. Without issue, I can throw 375 feet in crappy tennis shoes; I can’t get close to it in Crocs, though. And unless you’re (groan) Angus Barstow, you probably can’t, either.

Click here to see what I mean.

Listen, if you’re in a Croc-wearing mood, head for the beach, gas station or eHarmony.

Or, if you’re at all like me, bust out your laptop and blog a bit …

Behold, my current footwear:

That’s right …

I’m a Crochead.

And even I know Crocs on the disc golf course are a pathetic play for attention. If you’re new to the sport, fine. If you’ve recently graduated from pull-ups, it’s chill. And if your house, along with everything inside of it, just barely burnt to the ground, I’ll look the other way on this.

But if you don’t fall into one of the aforementioned categories, have some self-respect – nab a pair of big-boy shoes with serious souls and laces. You’ll play better, not to mention the ankle bone directly above your plant foot won’t snap in half like a cheap toothpick anytime soon.

Sometimes, the truth hurts.

If you’ve taken offense, pop a Tylenol.

See you out on the course – dressed like an adult.

From the shins down, at least.

Have anything to add? Take to Twitter to let us know – we’ll actually (for real) get back to you.

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