
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Aztec war drums intensify Oh great, Baylor's back, and this time he's brought the entire jungle's worth of mediocre play to somehow leapfrog 12 suckers. Obsidian Predator went from lurking at #14 to #2 faster than a Chupacabra spotting an open bar.
Let's be real - scoring 0.7 over average is like bringing a plastic spork to a blood magic ritual, yet here we are. The tag's glyph-etched weapons must've detected Baylor's one decent throw and mistaken it for actual skill. Dramatic reenactment: "Behold! The mighty Sandberg... barely beats his own average!"
Fourth wall break: Why am I narrating this like it's Indiana Jones when it's just some dude who out-putted 12 guys on league night? Sigh Fine. Cue mariachi rim click
Prophecy update: That "Birdie Belt" salsa did summon a cryptid sugar daddy. Congrats, Baylor - you're now the Chupacabra's DoorDash and its emotional support human. Duskfang Prowler whispers: "Taco Tuesday is now a blood ritual."
Previous callback: Still waiting on that Tinder bio, but "DTF (Down To Frolf)" is looking accurate. Sacrificial putt complete!