The air is crisp and there's a cold wind out of the North. I stand on the concrete tee pad, right shoulder to the basket, and watch my breath float away on the breeze. I grip the disc with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and begin raising it up and to my left as I step forward with my right foot, turning slightly to my left, away from the basket. The pad is covered with loose, sandy red Oklahoma soil, so my steps are careful and unhurried. Pivoting on my right foot, I take a small backward step with the left. My back is now fully to the basket. I plant my left foot and take a big step back and around with my right, my body and arm following. I bring the disc through from high to low, snapping my wrist, imparting maximum spin. I let it go with a slight rightward tilt so it'll cut into the wind and it feels good leaving my hand. It turns into the wind and rides it, going long and continuing to turn right. It lands in the street, out of bounds, where it is immediately run over by a 30-year old customized Ford Econoline van. Double bogey. Sigh.