Menace to society: A frisbee golf tour of Princeton

If you've ever seen a person around campus throwing a frisbee for no apparent reason at no discernable target, you've probably run across a frisbee golfer. Frisbee golf, which follows the same rules as golf — but uses a frisbee rather than clubs and a ball and uses various targets rather than holes — has a kind of cult status on campus, with a small, loyal following of players.

But is it a menace to campus security? Is a game that asks its competitors to throw a frisbee at various statues, buildings and doors around campus — and often around the people that walk it — a threat to public safety? It seems overblown, but I wanted to know where the fascination for such an activity arose.

"I guess you could say that," senior Brad Friedman, who's been playing frisbee golf for over five years, said. "We do take precautions, and I've never hit anyone, but I'm sure in some way it's pretty dangerous."

Friedman also said, however, that frisbee golf was a great way for him to relax and spend time with his friends, and that he loves to play.

I determined that there was only one way to find real answers: I would have to play the game myself. Despite being told by Friedman that there was no set course, and that he and his friends simply made up targets so that their last hole left them in front of Hoagie Haven, I managed to find a sample map of a course on the Agape website. Frisbee golf being a primarily nocturnal affair, I set out with fellow 'Prince' staffer Trent Magruder on a cold night to tackle the course head-on and to determine whether frisbee golf really was a menace to life at Princeton.

I was fairly confident heading into the round. My practice throws had been pretty good, and my arm felt nice and loose. If I was built like a smaller version of David Wells, then I was determined to throw the disc just as hard.

The first hole being in front of Nassau Hall, and Trent and I being golfers, we decided to spice up our round with one of the oldest wagers in golf — the Nassau. A Nassau awards the value of the bet to whoever wins the front nine, the back nine and the overall 18 holes. For our one-dollar Nassau, therefore, it meant that at most one of us could finish the round three dollars richer - or poorer.

The round started innocently enough. Trent and I spent the first few holes getting acclimated to the intricacies of throwing a frisbee accurately. I had bought a set of official frisbee golf discs that included a driver disc for longer shots, and two other discs for shorter approaches — and all for the bargain price of 30 dollars. I let Trent have his pick of discs, and he quickly became comfortable with the driver, a red frisbee labeled, "The Leopard." Apparently, there are scores of different discs for the various shots required in frisbee golf, and all of them are given creepy animal names.

Seniors Katy Glenn and Mara Tchalakov saw us early in our round.

"It's harmless," Glenn said. "People [should] recognize it for the fantastic sport that is."

Tchalakov, when asked if she thought frisbee golf should continue on campus said firmly, "I say carry forth."

As we played we reflected a little on what the frisbee had done to the college campus. On any sunny day it was likely that someone, somewhere, was tossing around a frisbee. Princeton, in fact, had played a pivotal role in the growing popularity of frisbees on college campuses. In 1972, the Tigers participated in the first ever intercollegiate ultimate frisbee matchup against Rutgers, exactly 103 years to the day after the two schools had inaugurated college football. While frisbee golf remains a far different endeavor, it is hard to toss a frisbee around this campus without being struck by the historical import of such an action.

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But was it a menace? Just as I had been convinced otherwise, I chucked my tee shot on the ninth hole right into an innocent passerby riding his bike. Luckily, he was not hurt, and he rode away muttering only a few unpleasantries in my general direction, but the seed of doubt had been planted in my brain. I needed answers, and I needed them from someone in authority.

"No," Department of Public Safety captain Don Reichling, said. "[People] have been playing for as long as I can remember and I've never seen any issues.

"It's like a culture thing, almost to the point that no one notices anymore," he said.

But Reichling admitted that although he saw no danger in frisbee golf, he wasn't going to try the sport himself.

"Frisbee's not really my game," he said.

I was satisfied nonetheless.

As we headed to the back nine I couldn't help but tell myself that my lackluster front nine had been merely a warmup. I was new to the game, and I couldn't be expected to master it immediately. The 10th hole took us from the tiger statues beside Whig and Clio to a rusty statue adjacent to the Art Museum. I threaded a beautiful tee shot through the trees — maybe my finest of the day — and clanked home a solid birdie, my only one of the round.

"That was like Hogan in the '52 U.S. Open," Trent said.

Following the birdie I felt a surge of momentum running through my veins. We soon headed to the 12th, a viciously difficult little hole taking us from Murray-Dodge to the statue of John Witherspoon. Trent's first shot ricocheted off a tree and fell short, but his recovery left him only 15 feet away from Witherspoon. He lined up his shot and took a look up at his goal. Witherspoon stared firmly back, his bronze frame an austere and stern reminder of 257 years of Princeton tradition. Trent took a breath and delivered the disc right to Witherspoon's groin. Par.

When he followed his par with a birdie, I suddenly found myself scrambling to keep pace. We traded a few holes back and forth, and I came to the 18th tee needing to win the hole to salvage a tie. I had taken control of "The Leopard" a few holes earlier, and the change had made Trent a little uncomfortable. I was hoping it would be enough to push me to victory. Alas, my second shot left me with a bad angle toward the "X" sculpture on Prospect lawn, and I could manage only a bogey four. Trent's par gave him the two-stroke victory. We tallied the score, and despite tying him with a 36 on the back nine, I had lost, 70-68, and owed Trent two dollars.

"It was a good time," Trent said. "It was good to get out in the fresh air."

My gut told me he was just bragging about having won the money.

In the end, I had discovered that frisbee golf provided many of the same challenges and frustrations that could be found on the traditional golf links, coupled with the additional challenge of playing on a campus filled with people walking by. But I had learned to cope with their intrusions and awkward stares, and I most definitely did not feel like a menace to campus security. I was, however, ticked about losing the two dollars.