The author of the quote: "If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write" is Stephen King.
On Southern literature:
I was particularly intrigued by Flannery O'Connor's quote on Southern writers from the last post:
"I doubt if the texture of Southern life is any more grotesque than that of the rest of the nation, but it does seem evident that the Southern writer is particularly adept at recognizing the grotesque; and to recognize the grotesque, you have to have some notion of what is not grotesque and why."
I have never cared for William Faulkner because his writing is a coarse caricature of the South I know, a stereotype that confirmed the prejudices of the Hollywood crowd he schmoozed with. But the rich eccentricities of southerners is undeniable, as O'Connor recognizes.
I have always preferred Eudora Welty's portrayal of the South, which to me is more authentic and more rooted in real — but still eccentric — people. O'Connor captures the essence of Southern literature and defines why Faulkner misses the mark while Welty succeeds.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Authors on their craft
Match the quote with the American author:
1. The writer's only responsibility is to his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one. He has a dream. It anguishes him so much he must get rid of it. He has no peace until then. Everything goes by the board: honor, pride, decency, security, happiness, all to get the book written. If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate. — D. Faulkner
2. I doubt if the texture of Southern life is any more grotesque than that of the rest of the nation, but it does seem evident that the Southern writer is particularly adept at recognizing the grotesque; and to recognize the grotesque, you have to have some notion of what is not grotesque and why. — A. Flannery O'Connor
3. I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows. Anything you know you can eliminate and it only strengthens your iceberg. It is the part that doesn't show. If a writer omits something because he does not know it then there is a hole in the story. — C. Ernest Hemingway
4. Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story. — B. F. Scott Fitzgerald
Bonus question:
What living author wrote: "If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write."
1. The writer's only responsibility is to his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one. He has a dream. It anguishes him so much he must get rid of it. He has no peace until then. Everything goes by the board: honor, pride, decency, security, happiness, all to get the book written. If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate. — D. Faulkner
2. I doubt if the texture of Southern life is any more grotesque than that of the rest of the nation, but it does seem evident that the Southern writer is particularly adept at recognizing the grotesque; and to recognize the grotesque, you have to have some notion of what is not grotesque and why. — A. Flannery O'Connor
3. I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows. Anything you know you can eliminate and it only strengthens your iceberg. It is the part that doesn't show. If a writer omits something because he does not know it then there is a hole in the story. — C. Ernest Hemingway
4. Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story. — B. F. Scott Fitzgerald
Bonus question:
What living author wrote: "If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write."
Friday, July 25, 2008
Match Quotes
Amercian authors on the subject of writing
Match the quote with the author:
1. The writer's only responsibility is to his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one. He has a dream. It anguishes him so much he must get rid of it. He has no peace until then. Everything goes by the board: honor, pride, decency, security, happiness, all to get the book written. If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate.
2. I doubt if the texture of Southern life is any more grotesque than that of the rest of the nation, but it does seem evident that the Southern writer is particularly adept at recognizing the grotesque; and to recognize the grotesque, you have to have some notion of what is not grotesque and why.
3. I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows. Anything you know you can eliminate and it only strengthens your iceberg. It is the part that doesn't show. If a writer omits something because he does not know it then there is a hole in the story.
4. Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story.
A. Flannery O'Connor
B. F. Scott Fitzgerald
C. Ernest Hemingway
D. William Faulkner
Do any of the quotes reflect your own thoughts on writing?
Match the quote with the author:
1. The writer's only responsibility is to his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one. He has a dream. It anguishes him so much he must get rid of it. He has no peace until then. Everything goes by the board: honor, pride, decency, security, happiness, all to get the book written. If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate.
2. I doubt if the texture of Southern life is any more grotesque than that of the rest of the nation, but it does seem evident that the Southern writer is particularly adept at recognizing the grotesque; and to recognize the grotesque, you have to have some notion of what is not grotesque and why.
3. I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows. Anything you know you can eliminate and it only strengthens your iceberg. It is the part that doesn't show. If a writer omits something because he does not know it then there is a hole in the story.
4. Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story.
A. Flannery O'Connor
B. F. Scott Fitzgerald
C. Ernest Hemingway
D. William Faulkner
Do any of the quotes reflect your own thoughts on writing?
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Antidote for Errors
Corrections:
1. He joined the Marine Corp because he wanted to ensure he would see action.
The correct spelling is Marine Corps. I am amazed at how often we see Marine Corp — the abbreviation of corporation without the period. Even former Marines, when submitting letters or news copy, often spell it Corp.
2. The cheesecake was fantastic, but she preferred the barbecued mutton.
Fantastic comes from the same root as fantasy. It means fanciful, bizarre or unreal. Using it to mean wonderful or terrific became a fad in the 1970s, and it still lingers. It used to annoy my mother when the singer Roy Clark misused the term.
3. Officers called off the search, believing the suspect had fled the state.
The officers thought, not believed, the suspect had fled the state. Belief has to do with faith or truth or opinions. "I believe what you said." "I believe in God." Using believe as a synonym for think is imprecise and can confuse the reader.
4. He was confident he could hurl the football further than anyone on the team.
Farther. Further means to a greater degree. Farther means a longer distance.
Any of you error spotters who happened to see the editorial page Sunday no doubt caught a whopper — right in a headline.
I had "Obama offers right anecdote for nation's ills." Of course, I meant "antidote."
I was obviously asleep at the wheel. How embarrassing. But it did remind me of the joke about the guy who said his friend's death taught him the importance of a good vocabulary. When his buddy fell sick, the guy tried to cure him by telling him amusing little stories.
1. He joined the Marine Corp because he wanted to ensure he would see action.
The correct spelling is Marine Corps. I am amazed at how often we see Marine Corp — the abbreviation of corporation without the period. Even former Marines, when submitting letters or news copy, often spell it Corp.
2. The cheesecake was fantastic, but she preferred the barbecued mutton.
Fantastic comes from the same root as fantasy. It means fanciful, bizarre or unreal. Using it to mean wonderful or terrific became a fad in the 1970s, and it still lingers. It used to annoy my mother when the singer Roy Clark misused the term.
3. Officers called off the search, believing the suspect had fled the state.
The officers thought, not believed, the suspect had fled the state. Belief has to do with faith or truth or opinions. "I believe what you said." "I believe in God." Using believe as a synonym for think is imprecise and can confuse the reader.
4. He was confident he could hurl the football further than anyone on the team.
Farther. Further means to a greater degree. Farther means a longer distance.
Any of you error spotters who happened to see the editorial page Sunday no doubt caught a whopper — right in a headline.
I had "Obama offers right anecdote for nation's ills." Of course, I meant "antidote."
I was obviously asleep at the wheel. How embarrassing. But it did remind me of the joke about the guy who said his friend's death taught him the importance of a good vocabulary. When his buddy fell sick, the guy tried to cure him by telling him amusing little stories.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Summer Entrepreneur
Sunday's column (feel free to critique content or style)
Summer's carefree days: fertile ground for entrepreneurs
I was a kid at a time when parenting was sort of a hands-off process. Kids were left with lots of free time to do as they wished — ride bikes, play ball, build bombs, whatever.
Our parents had moved to the city from farms, where they had grown up butchering chickens and slaughtering hogs and other activities that would bring social services to the door today. But once in the city, no one had chores. It didn't occur to parents that their kids might need guidance since they had never needed any. Unless you count getting their backsides tanned when they neglected their chores.
Besides, these newly urbanized parents were preoccupied learning to be mod, which for men meant growing pork chop sideburns and for women meant growing beehives on their heads — which by the way, was the strangest of all the strange fashions America has suffered through in two centuries. In fact, it was their parents' weird hairdos, not Vietnam, that inspired teenagers to rebel in the '60s.
If parents felt a twinge of guilt for failing to deliberately parent, Dr. Spock was there to reassure them that the happiest kids are the ones left to do as they pleased. And so in the summertime parents would leave for work and stay gone all day with no worries about what their kids might get into during the day. That strategy might actually work today, since today's kids, when left to themselves, choose to sit for hours at a time cramming junk food down their throats in front of the latest electronic device until they fade into a sugar-induced trance that lasts until supper time.
But in those days, with no computers, no electronic games and nothing interesting on TV, we kids went outside looking for something to do. That meant getting together with other boys in the neighborhood, where we proved the long-established social science theorem: the wisdom of a young man's decision making is inversely proportionate to the number of boys in the pack.
The nearest thing we learned to responsibility was to set aside the last hour before the parents came home to erase all the evidence.
In truth, the mischief we got into was pretty tame by today's standards — climbing the neighbor's fence to steal green apples off his tree, blowing up our sisters' Barbies with firecrackers, tossing cats into the swimming pool. You know, the usual stuff.
But occasionally we unsupervised kids actually channeled our energy into something useful, something entrepreneurial even. Of course, a fine line separates the entrepreneur from the scam artist.
It started with fake Kool-Aid. Desperate for cash to spend at Pennington's Ice Cream Parlor, we decided to set up a Kool-Aid stand. Unfortunately, we had no Kool-Aid mix.
So we invented "Cool-Aid: a refreshing new taste." Cool-Aid consisted of water, ice, sugar and food coloring. Note the absence of any actual flavoring.
We sold pitchers of it, one paper cup at a time. No one ever suspected a thing. Even after we could afford the real thing, we didn't bother. Why alter a winning formula? If customers asked what flavor they were drinking, we would ask them what it tasted like. Whatever their answers — cherry, strawberry, raspberry — we confirmed it with "good guess," which was not exactly a lie.
The Cool-Aid stand expanded to include frozen Cool-Aid treats made in ice trays, then popcorn, and eventually hot dogs, slices of watermelon, pickles, freshly butchered rabbits (that was actually an attempt to salvage another little business venture that was not working out too well; I'll save that story for another day) and whatever was on the 10-cent table at the neighborhood market, which we would mark up 200 percent.
My job — sort of unofficially — was food tester. Left to my own, I must confess, I would have eaten up all our profits. Fortunately for our shareholders, my older brother assumed the task of inventory control, which consisted of pounding my head when the product disappeared faster than the cash box filled.
It was nice to have a few coins in our pockets. But I admit I always hoped we wouldn't sell out. Disposing of the unsold merchandise was my favorite perk of business ownership.
When the parents came home and saw what we were up to, they all beamed with pride at their little geniuses. They would even drop a few coins as customers before retreating into the house. That gave us just enough time to disappear before they found the remains of Barbie and Ken.
Summer's carefree days: fertile ground for entrepreneurs
I was a kid at a time when parenting was sort of a hands-off process. Kids were left with lots of free time to do as they wished — ride bikes, play ball, build bombs, whatever.
Our parents had moved to the city from farms, where they had grown up butchering chickens and slaughtering hogs and other activities that would bring social services to the door today. But once in the city, no one had chores. It didn't occur to parents that their kids might need guidance since they had never needed any. Unless you count getting their backsides tanned when they neglected their chores.
Besides, these newly urbanized parents were preoccupied learning to be mod, which for men meant growing pork chop sideburns and for women meant growing beehives on their heads — which by the way, was the strangest of all the strange fashions America has suffered through in two centuries. In fact, it was their parents' weird hairdos, not Vietnam, that inspired teenagers to rebel in the '60s.
If parents felt a twinge of guilt for failing to deliberately parent, Dr. Spock was there to reassure them that the happiest kids are the ones left to do as they pleased. And so in the summertime parents would leave for work and stay gone all day with no worries about what their kids might get into during the day. That strategy might actually work today, since today's kids, when left to themselves, choose to sit for hours at a time cramming junk food down their throats in front of the latest electronic device until they fade into a sugar-induced trance that lasts until supper time.
But in those days, with no computers, no electronic games and nothing interesting on TV, we kids went outside looking for something to do. That meant getting together with other boys in the neighborhood, where we proved the long-established social science theorem: the wisdom of a young man's decision making is inversely proportionate to the number of boys in the pack.
The nearest thing we learned to responsibility was to set aside the last hour before the parents came home to erase all the evidence.
In truth, the mischief we got into was pretty tame by today's standards — climbing the neighbor's fence to steal green apples off his tree, blowing up our sisters' Barbies with firecrackers, tossing cats into the swimming pool. You know, the usual stuff.
But occasionally we unsupervised kids actually channeled our energy into something useful, something entrepreneurial even. Of course, a fine line separates the entrepreneur from the scam artist.
It started with fake Kool-Aid. Desperate for cash to spend at Pennington's Ice Cream Parlor, we decided to set up a Kool-Aid stand. Unfortunately, we had no Kool-Aid mix.
So we invented "Cool-Aid: a refreshing new taste." Cool-Aid consisted of water, ice, sugar and food coloring. Note the absence of any actual flavoring.
We sold pitchers of it, one paper cup at a time. No one ever suspected a thing. Even after we could afford the real thing, we didn't bother. Why alter a winning formula? If customers asked what flavor they were drinking, we would ask them what it tasted like. Whatever their answers — cherry, strawberry, raspberry — we confirmed it with "good guess," which was not exactly a lie.
The Cool-Aid stand expanded to include frozen Cool-Aid treats made in ice trays, then popcorn, and eventually hot dogs, slices of watermelon, pickles, freshly butchered rabbits (that was actually an attempt to salvage another little business venture that was not working out too well; I'll save that story for another day) and whatever was on the 10-cent table at the neighborhood market, which we would mark up 200 percent.
My job — sort of unofficially — was food tester. Left to my own, I must confess, I would have eaten up all our profits. Fortunately for our shareholders, my older brother assumed the task of inventory control, which consisted of pounding my head when the product disappeared faster than the cash box filled.
It was nice to have a few coins in our pockets. But I admit I always hoped we wouldn't sell out. Disposing of the unsold merchandise was my favorite perk of business ownership.
When the parents came home and saw what we were up to, they all beamed with pride at their little geniuses. They would even drop a few coins as customers before retreating into the house. That gave us just enough time to disappear before they found the remains of Barbie and Ken.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Test yourself
Correct the errors (or identify the wrong word choices):
1. He joined the Marine Corp because he wanted to ensure he would see action.
2. The cheesecake was fantastic, but she preferred the barbecued mutton.
3. Officers called off the search, believing the suspect had fled the state.
4. He was confident he could hurl the football further than anyone on the team.
1. He joined the Marine Corp because he wanted to ensure he would see action.
2. The cheesecake was fantastic, but she preferred the barbecued mutton.
3. Officers called off the search, believing the suspect had fled the state.
4. He was confident he could hurl the football further than anyone on the team.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Puzzle answers
Answers:
1. Driving all the way to Denver, Carol's car got great mileage.
(Carol's car didn't drive to Denver, Carol did.)
Driving all the way to Denver, Carol got great mileage in her Hummer.
Or:
Carol got great mileage on her drive to Denver.
2. To increase your chances of getting published, your manuscript should be error-free.
(Your manuscript can't do anything to help you get published, even if it had the will to do so.)
To increase your chances of getting published, make sure your manuscript is error-free.
Or:
Your manuscript should be error-free to increase your chances of getting published.
3. Repeat it again for everyone to hear.
Repeat it for everyone to hear. ("again" is superfluous)
4. Buy your special someone a diamond from Mo's Jewelry; they have the widest selection.
(Mo's is a business, an "it," not a "they")
Buy your special someone a diamond from Mo's Jewelry; it has the widest selection.
1. Driving all the way to Denver, Carol's car got great mileage.
(Carol's car didn't drive to Denver, Carol did.)
Driving all the way to Denver, Carol got great mileage in her Hummer.
Or:
Carol got great mileage on her drive to Denver.
2. To increase your chances of getting published, your manuscript should be error-free.
(Your manuscript can't do anything to help you get published, even if it had the will to do so.)
To increase your chances of getting published, make sure your manuscript is error-free.
Or:
Your manuscript should be error-free to increase your chances of getting published.
3. Repeat it again for everyone to hear.
Repeat it for everyone to hear. ("again" is superfluous)
4. Buy your special someone a diamond from Mo's Jewelry; they have the widest selection.
(Mo's is a business, an "it," not a "they")
Buy your special someone a diamond from Mo's Jewelry; it has the widest selection.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Fix It
Correct the following:
1. Driving all the way to Denver, Carol's car got great mileage.
2. To increase your chances of getting published, your manuscript should be error-free.
3. Repeat it again for everyone to hear.
4. Buy your special someone a diamond from Mo's Jewelry; they have the widest selection.
1. Driving all the way to Denver, Carol's car got great mileage.
2. To increase your chances of getting published, your manuscript should be error-free.
3. Repeat it again for everyone to hear.
4. Buy your special someone a diamond from Mo's Jewelry; they have the widest selection.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Word Choice Answers
Answers to yesterday's word choice puzzlers:
1. I can empathize with those starving children in Ethiopia with their distended bellies.
Actually, the best I can do is sympathize. Although my belly might be distended, it is not from starvation. I could only empathize if I had experienced the same thing. Empathy is the ability to understand another's suffering as if it were one's own. To sympathize is to feel sympathy or concern for another's misfortunes.
2. Tempers flared as fans of the opposing teams streamed from the stadium, but the presence of peace officers diffused the tension.
The police officers may have diffused (disperse in every direction) the crowd, but they defused (reduce or eliminate tension or antagonism) the tension.
3. She adopted to the new schedule adapted in the office where she works.
Switch adopted and adapted. To adopt is to choose or make one's own. Adapt is to adjust to changing circumstances. The adopted child had to adapt to her new home.
4. The new office schedule was more conducive to her party habits.
The schedule may have been convenient, but it was not conducive, which means contributive, tending to cause or likely to produce.
1. I can empathize with those starving children in Ethiopia with their distended bellies.
Actually, the best I can do is sympathize. Although my belly might be distended, it is not from starvation. I could only empathize if I had experienced the same thing. Empathy is the ability to understand another's suffering as if it were one's own. To sympathize is to feel sympathy or concern for another's misfortunes.
2. Tempers flared as fans of the opposing teams streamed from the stadium, but the presence of peace officers diffused the tension.
The police officers may have diffused (disperse in every direction) the crowd, but they defused (reduce or eliminate tension or antagonism) the tension.
3. She adopted to the new schedule adapted in the office where she works.
Switch adopted and adapted. To adopt is to choose or make one's own. Adapt is to adjust to changing circumstances. The adopted child had to adapt to her new home.
4. The new office schedule was more conducive to her party habits.
The schedule may have been convenient, but it was not conducive, which means contributive, tending to cause or likely to produce.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Word Choice
Spot the errors:
1. I can empathize with those starving children in Ethiopia with their distended bellies.
2. Tempers flared as fans of the opposing teams streamed from the stadium, but the presence of peace officers diffused the tension.
3. She adopted to the new schedule adapted in the office where she works.
4. The new office schedule was more conducive to her party habits.
1. I can empathize with those starving children in Ethiopia with their distended bellies.
2. Tempers flared as fans of the opposing teams streamed from the stadium, but the presence of peace officers diffused the tension.
3. She adopted to the new schedule adapted in the office where she works.
4. The new office schedule was more conducive to her party habits.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Hyphens and Dashes
When should you use a hyphen? What's the difference between a hyphen and a dash? When should you use a dash?
The most effective way I could find to explain the uses to new reporters was this: a hyphen joins, a dash separates.
A hyphen (-) joins. It has no space before or after it. It is used with compound nouns and with two-word adjectives preceding nouns as well as other uses.
Examples:
Dec. 12-17
rip-off
the big-headed writer
the score was 28-14
a 2-year-old filly
All of the 3- and 4-year-olds
A dash (—) separates. It has a space at both ends. It can show an abrupt change. It can function like a hard comma. Some editors use dashes only in pairs.
Examples:
The reporters — Bill, Shelley and Matt — turned in their stories.
The commission raised the mayor's salary — his first since assuming office 10 years ago — over the objections of the city manager.
An ellipsis (...) is NOT interchangeable with a dash. It is used in place of words deleted from a quote or document, usually to eliminate unnecessary verbage. It has a space before and after.
Examples:
I pledge allegiance to the flag ... and to the Republic for which it stands ...
The most effective way I could find to explain the uses to new reporters was this: a hyphen joins, a dash separates.
A hyphen (-) joins. It has no space before or after it. It is used with compound nouns and with two-word adjectives preceding nouns as well as other uses.
Examples:
Dec. 12-17
rip-off
the big-headed writer
the score was 28-14
a 2-year-old filly
All of the 3- and 4-year-olds
A dash (—) separates. It has a space at both ends. It can show an abrupt change. It can function like a hard comma. Some editors use dashes only in pairs.
Examples:
The reporters — Bill, Shelley and Matt — turned in their stories.
The commission raised the mayor's salary — his first since assuming office 10 years ago — over the objections of the city manager.
An ellipsis (...) is NOT interchangeable with a dash. It is used in place of words deleted from a quote or document, usually to eliminate unnecessary verbage. It has a space before and after.
Examples:
I pledge allegiance to the flag ... and to the Republic for which it stands ...
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Disc Golf
Sunday's column.
Superman's got nothing on disc golfers
Warning: Disc golf is addictive and is a leading cause of embarrassment, envy and sudden outbursts of anger.
Too bad they don't post that label on golf discs.
The warning summarizes all I had learned about the game I played three or four times a week for the past five months.
Readers might remember my account of playing the disc golf course last winter at Stuart Nelson Park — using Frisbees. Not only did I suffer severe frostbite requiring the removal of several previously functioning fingers and toes, but I also played so badly that, had I been sensible, I would have given up immediately to avoid humiliating myself in front of others.
But I am not sensible. Besides, a bunch of guys from an organization called the West Kentucky Disc Golf Club, after reading the column, e-mailed some helpful tips. Of course, if they really wanted to be helpful they would have advised "Quit now." Instead they said, "Ditch the Frisbees."
Good advice. Playing disc golf with a Frisbee is like playing real golf with a ping pong ball.
We quickly learned that disc golf is played with discs that bear only slight resemblance to the popular flying discs of the '70s and '80s. Golf discs are harder, thinner, smaller in diameter and more aerodynamic than Frisbees. They fly twice as far when you release them — unless, of course, you are me, in which case they only go about 15 feet before they hit a tree. The rows of dents in the trees near the tee boxes at Paducah's course tell me I'm not the only one.
I had noticed that serious players carry around big bags full of discs. This is not, as I had presumed, because they lose so many in a typical round that they want to make sure they can get through all 18 holes. It is because every disc has a different flight pattern and is made for a specific purpose. You have distance drivers, fairway drivers, mid-range and approach discs, putters and, of course, discs to hurl into the woods in a fit of fury when you blow an easy shot.
Despite the frustration of seeing discs go somewhere other than where I intend, which happens only every hole, I actually thought I was starting to get the hang of it. That was before I played in the Red Cross Disc Toss last weekend alongside members of the club — that is, REAL disc golfers.
We're talking hard core. These people are not normal. They are machines. They go to the gym and lift weights, isolating the muscles they use in throwing. They study disc golf video. They travel around the country competing. They set up holes in their backyards. Those who have enough land set up entire courses on their property.
For months I had been hearing about a player named Richard, the club's best player, the only guy with a hole-in-one on the Paducah course — and he has three. On one throw. Richard can toss a disc from the Kentucky end of the Irvin Cobb bridge and hit the "Welcome to Brookport" sign at the other end, sailing past tractor-trailer rigs along the way. He can toss a disc from the foot of Kentucky Avenue and land it smack-dab in the center of the helipad at Western Baptist Hospital, even with the helicopter blades spinning overhead. He once tossed a disc from the George Rogers Clark statue at Fort Massac, bounced it off the forehead of Big John the 20-foot sack boy and knocked out the front teeth of the giant Superman in the Metropolis square, causing it to cry — not because of pain but because of its obvious inferiority to Richard.
I'm telling you, he's a robot or an alien or something.
Anyway, the Red Cross Disc Toss ended with a random draw best toss scramble on Sunday. As luck — and a $20 bribe — would have it, organizers paired me with Richard. The bad news is, we never used any of my throws. For that matter, we never FOUND my throws. The good news is, Richard didn't need my help to crush the competition like mosquitoes on the windshield. And I still got to share in the cash prize.
Well, OK, we actually finished third. But that was only because Richard forgot which hole we were throwing at a few times and hit the NEXT hole instead, necessitating an extra stroke to get back. And we still finished only two strokes up.
I picked up a few more tips at the tournament. But none more valuable than this: Make Richard your partner.
Superman's got nothing on disc golfers
Warning: Disc golf is addictive and is a leading cause of embarrassment, envy and sudden outbursts of anger.
Too bad they don't post that label on golf discs.
The warning summarizes all I had learned about the game I played three or four times a week for the past five months.
Readers might remember my account of playing the disc golf course last winter at Stuart Nelson Park — using Frisbees. Not only did I suffer severe frostbite requiring the removal of several previously functioning fingers and toes, but I also played so badly that, had I been sensible, I would have given up immediately to avoid humiliating myself in front of others.
But I am not sensible. Besides, a bunch of guys from an organization called the West Kentucky Disc Golf Club, after reading the column, e-mailed some helpful tips. Of course, if they really wanted to be helpful they would have advised "Quit now." Instead they said, "Ditch the Frisbees."
Good advice. Playing disc golf with a Frisbee is like playing real golf with a ping pong ball.
We quickly learned that disc golf is played with discs that bear only slight resemblance to the popular flying discs of the '70s and '80s. Golf discs are harder, thinner, smaller in diameter and more aerodynamic than Frisbees. They fly twice as far when you release them — unless, of course, you are me, in which case they only go about 15 feet before they hit a tree. The rows of dents in the trees near the tee boxes at Paducah's course tell me I'm not the only one.
I had noticed that serious players carry around big bags full of discs. This is not, as I had presumed, because they lose so many in a typical round that they want to make sure they can get through all 18 holes. It is because every disc has a different flight pattern and is made for a specific purpose. You have distance drivers, fairway drivers, mid-range and approach discs, putters and, of course, discs to hurl into the woods in a fit of fury when you blow an easy shot.
Despite the frustration of seeing discs go somewhere other than where I intend, which happens only every hole, I actually thought I was starting to get the hang of it. That was before I played in the Red Cross Disc Toss last weekend alongside members of the club — that is, REAL disc golfers.
We're talking hard core. These people are not normal. They are machines. They go to the gym and lift weights, isolating the muscles they use in throwing. They study disc golf video. They travel around the country competing. They set up holes in their backyards. Those who have enough land set up entire courses on their property.
For months I had been hearing about a player named Richard, the club's best player, the only guy with a hole-in-one on the Paducah course — and he has three. On one throw. Richard can toss a disc from the Kentucky end of the Irvin Cobb bridge and hit the "Welcome to Brookport" sign at the other end, sailing past tractor-trailer rigs along the way. He can toss a disc from the foot of Kentucky Avenue and land it smack-dab in the center of the helipad at Western Baptist Hospital, even with the helicopter blades spinning overhead. He once tossed a disc from the George Rogers Clark statue at Fort Massac, bounced it off the forehead of Big John the 20-foot sack boy and knocked out the front teeth of the giant Superman in the Metropolis square, causing it to cry — not because of pain but because of its obvious inferiority to Richard.
I'm telling you, he's a robot or an alien or something.
Anyway, the Red Cross Disc Toss ended with a random draw best toss scramble on Sunday. As luck — and a $20 bribe — would have it, organizers paired me with Richard. The bad news is, we never used any of my throws. For that matter, we never FOUND my throws. The good news is, Richard didn't need my help to crush the competition like mosquitoes on the windshield. And I still got to share in the cash prize.
Well, OK, we actually finished third. But that was only because Richard forgot which hole we were throwing at a few times and hit the NEXT hole instead, necessitating an extra stroke to get back. And we still finished only two strokes up.
I picked up a few more tips at the tournament. But none more valuable than this: Make Richard your partner.
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