Gripe No. 15: Lost discs during tournaments (and what they mean)

Losing a disc blows major chunks.

But misplacing plastic at a tournament makes it that much worse …

Here’s why:

You’ll need the disc later on

First, you’re now without a proven thrower – and when it actually matters. Even with one of those mammoth disc golf bags, space is limited. And clearly, seeing as how the course just claimed your disc as its own, there’s at least some shot for which the layout requires it.

From there, options are limited:

You can use another disc in your arsenal.
You can hustle back to your car if it’s nearby.
You can hit up a vendor’s tent after the round’s over.
You can borrow one, as long as it’s “identifiably marked.”

Nevertheless, NOT losing a disc in the first place is your best bet.

The missing disc messes with your mind

Your misplaced frisbee is gone …

But it’s STILL nearby.

Mind games.

For those blessed with a stronger brain than my own, this won’t be as big of a deal. Armed with the mental fortitude of a moist towelette, I struggle to shake off the pain of a lost, beaten flier.

Usually, when I lose a disc, I’ve driven 15-plus minutes to the course to play. After losing it, I look for a good half-hour. And assuming there’s enough time, once the round’s over, I’ll dedicate another 30 minutes to finding it. After all that, if it’s gone, it’s gone for good – I forget about it.

Out of sight, out of mind.

At a tournament, you have THREE minutes to look for it. And if you can’t find it, you’re lucky enough to spend the rest of your Saturday with the dumb thing hidden right under your nose.

Annoying to the max.

‘Three minutes’ rarely means ‘three minutes’

This is the one that gets me the most about lost frisbees at tourneys …

Whether or not you’re the one who threw the missing disc, you’ve got to work to find it. There’s actually a PDGA rule about this – if you don’t, enjoy your courtesy violation. But having to help isn’t what bothers me. On the contrary: Knowing what it’s like to lose one, I’m happy to help …

It’s that the aforementioned “three minutes” quickly turns into five, 10 or 15 of ‘em. Before long, there’s a backup on the teepad as the anxiety level swells within the group. Apart from the dude responsible for the lost disc, EVERYBODY wants to bring up the three-minute time limit …

It’s an awkward tension.

Nobody wants to be the bad guy …

But before things get absurd, somebody has to be – me no likey.

Let’s end this on a positive note …

When you lose a disc during a regular, run-of-the-mill casual round, the course is often vacant. You’re left to your own devices to find it. And when you don’t, you’ve got to bank on a good Samaritan stumbling across it in the days that follow. Otherwise, you’re down a golf disc.

During an event, however, dozens of cards will play the exact same hole on which you made a near-impossible error. And wouldn’t you know it, somebody’s likely to do something equally as stupid as you. More people means more eyes, and more eyes means a good chance of recovery.

Not every person who registers for a tournament is an upstanding citizen, but they’re probably aware of disc golf’s unspoken rule: If you find a disc, put some elbow grease into returning it.

So if ever there was a setting for the return of a lost disc, it’d be at a tournament …

Count your blessings.

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