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Professional tournament turns up the heat at Holmes Park course By BILL VARBLE The chinks of flying discs hitting steel poles mix with the raucous cackling of acorn woodpeckers Saturday as disc golfers crisscross across Holmes Park, the east Medford hillside that's a reminder of the oak savanna that covered the Rogue Valley before most of it was lost to development. About 50 disc golfers, some from as far as Portland, are vying for about $1,000 in prize money. The Rogue Valley Open, the first event here sanctioned by the Professional Disc Golf Association, kicked off Saturday in Medford. It continues today at Tom Pierce Park in Grants Pass, with action slated for 9 a.m. It's the third stop in the eight-event 2001 Oregon Disc Golf Series, and organizer Jesse Benbow wants it to become an annual tradition. Lane Mason drove down from Myrtle Creek for the tournament. "We love it," Mason says. He says he built a disc golf course near his home. "Toughest in Oregon," he boasts. Steve Holm, of Medford, came with his 16-month-old daughter, Sierra. He took the day off to compete, then had to watch Sierra instead when his wife was called in to pack cherries at Harry and David's. "You get serious about the sport," says Holm, 34. "You want the birdies. You want the eagles." When these guys - and any of the several gals - throw those things, they don't look like the kids next door. That's not to say there aren't a few beer bellies, or the occasional cigarette on the links. But the skill level is clear as discs sail seemingly forever or arc around trees. The PDGA, after all, is a national sanctioning body. The sport even has its own Tiger Woods, one Ken Climo, a Floridian who is a 10-time national champ. Nor are these your father's Frisbees (a trademarked brand name, and one you don't hear much here). Golfers use heavy discs that are balanced for certain flight characteristics. There are drivers, irons and putters. The course is laid out like a regular golf course, with long holes and short ones, doglegs and hazards. Over a fence is out of bounds. Modoc Avenue is out of bounds. Holmes Park's hazards include a known disc dog. "That dog will grab your disc and pull it under the fence," Benbow tells golfers. "If that happens, there's no penalty stroke." "Give the dog a penalty stroke," somebody yells. Golfers mark approach shots, then must be in contact with markers for chip shots or putts. The "hole" is a steel pole with a basket into which chains hang from above. The golfer must hit the chains so that his disc winds up in the "cup." Some shots hit poles and bounce, much like a golfer hitting the pin, or hit the chains and fall, the equivalent of a putt that's in and out. Discs skid on the dry, straw-like grass, the disc golfers' equivalent of fast greens. Bumper stickers proclaim "Lonesome for chains" and "Another frustrated disc golfer." A T-shirt proclaims "Great Lakes Open '97". Holm, a San Diego native, says the sport has come about as close to replacing surfing for him as anything could do. "It's very addictive," he says. "Sometimes my wife says it's all I do." Reach reporter Bill Varble at 776-4478 or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.