I had some time to kill in the Pasadena area today, so I went for a walk in the oak forest along the edge of the Arroyo Seco, north of the Rose Bowl and just south of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. The park has one of the oldest Frisbee golf courses in the country, with signs next to each tee diagramming each hole (the 18th, for example, is a 187-foot dogleg right between the oaks).
I played this frolf course once in the mid-1970s. It seemed like a simple, mildly fun game. Judging from the guys who were playing today, however, it's no longer a simple game. I've been to three U.S. Open golf tournaments, I've watched Jack Nicklaus try to stare in a 20 foot birdie putt on the back nine Sunday at Medinah to get him in the hunt for one last U.S. Open title at age 50, but I've never seen intensity like these guys playing frolf. I watched one guy take seven or eight practice "swings" before finally just missing a 15 footer. The other three players said nothing, and just began lining up their shots with the same furious concentration.
On the other hand, the only female twosome on the course squealed in delight at each other's good shoots, then instantly resumed their conversation, of which all I overheard was, "Well, I don't care what he thinks, because I know I'm worth it!" It was all straight out of a Dave Barry column on the difference between men and women.
Also, every single player carried a shoulder bag for his multiple frisbees of various sizes (except for one guy who had a golf cart to haul around all his frisbees). All the bags were equipped with a long strap so that the bag hung below the waist and wouldn't interfere with the proper throwing motion. Most players had towels to dust off their frisbees to restore the perfect aerodynamics, although to my disappointment, these appeared to be just normal towels, and not specially designed frisbee golf towels made of some fiber custom fabricated at JPL to be optimal for frisbee-buffing.