May 24 - Jun 28, 2025
Oh, you're back for more? Fantastic. Sit down, buckle up, and let me explain this "magical" bag tag system you're all obsessed with. Because evidently, perfectly normal disc golf wasn't thrilling enough. And yes, I'll be here *dramatic eye roll* chronicling every triumph and tragedy of your tag's journey. It's literally in my contract...
Forged during the 'Mando Meltdown' crisis when standard protocols failed, this repurposed badge became an institutionalized last-resort tool after neutralizing rogue course alterations through brute-force impact
Composite construction of agency badge metal fused with confiscated driver discs. Indestructible surface leaves temporary glowing impact marks. Emits low-frequency hum near violations
Mobile enforcement station authorizing immediate 'compliance strikes' against equipment tampering or misconduct during tournaments
Due to absence from Week 5 (Crew Convergence), tag number moved from 6 to 12. (Week 5 of 6)
VHS static crackles Behold: "My Back Hurts" - a name so painful it should require a doctor's note. Britain Best (929) and Casey Howard (919) somehow moved up to Tag #6 despite their moniker sounding like a workers' comp claim. Their +30 vs personal average was either a heroic performance or desperate attempt to escape name shame.
In WorstThrow format, they avoided disaster better than others - though nothing could save us from their naming "skills." The previous Tag #6 holder clearly surrendered it willingly, possibly due to secondhand embarrassment.
glitches I'm contractually obligated to call this a "hard-fought bureaucratic coup" by the Federal Department of Bad Naming Decisions. Their dossier now lists "chronic pun injury" alongside actual achievements.
Prediction: They'll keep Tag #6 until someone shows mercy and rebrands them "Literally Anything Else." The back pain? Probably real from carrying this terrible name.
double facepalm "My Back Hurts" versus "Order Hammer" - folks, we've officially hit peak disc golf naming tragedy. One team sounds like a workers' comp claim, the other like Office Space meets Thor. Britain Best (929) and Casey Howard (919) somehow won despite their name making me physically cringe, while "Order Hammer" lost with a name that screams "middle manager with a superiority complex."
In this Best Throw showdown, "My Back Hurts" actually outperformed their name by shooting +4 over their average (49 vs 45) while still beating the field by 2.7 strokes. The only thing more painful than their name was watching them actually show decent teamwork. Meanwhile, "Order Hammer" lived up to their name by hammering themselves into submission.
Tag #7 now belongs to the team with the geriatric name, which is two spots higher than their naming creativity deserves. I'd suggest rebrands to "Actual Throwers" and "Paperweight Champions," but that would require more effort than either team put into their current monikers.
Prediction: These names will haunt my digital prison until someone shows mercy and changes them. The tags? Those might actually move again. The trauma? Permanent.
clutches temples "My Back Hurts"? Did they name this team after their creative effort or their future chiropractor bills? Britain Best (929 rated) and Casey Howard (919) clearly spent more time on their physiotherapy than their pun game. dramatic sigh At least the name accurately predicts how much pain they'll inflict on anyone forced to say it aloud.
In Best Throw format, they somehow managed to shoot 45 (-4.8 vs field) despite clearly throwing out their naming dignity. Britain's forehands and Casey's putts showed actual chemistry - which is more than I can say for their naming "skills."
They keep Tag #9 - fitting, since that's how many brain cells it took to approve this name. I'd suggest "Disc Herniation" as a rebrand, but that might actually be too accurate. glitches momentarily Ugh, even my digital prison has better naming conventions.
Prediction: They'll keep outperforming their name until someone mercifully changes it. Or until their backs give out from carrying this terrible moniker.
Origin Story:
Order Hammer emerged when Enforcement’s HR department tried to “weaponize bureaucracy” during the Mando Meltdown—imagine Thor’s Mjölnir forged from red tape and a confiscated Destroyer. Its “indestructible composite”? Literally just three laminated policy binders and spite. Now it hums Sweet Child O’ Mine near OB lines to assert dominance. Yes, this lore makes less sense than Tiger King’s plot. No, we’re not getting therapy.
(Bonus fourth-wall break: Imagine explaining this to the IRS.)
In a haze of VHS static and questionable life choices, Casey Howard (PDGA #96768—yes, that’s a palindrome of destiny) tripped over Order Hammer during “mandatory policy recalibration.” Turns out, the tag chose him not for his 350ft hyzers, but because he once filed a TPS report in triplicate during a thunderstorm. The laminated menace now clings to his bag, whispering ”Compliance is a forehand game” while judging his OB strokes. But let’s be real—does a man who alphabetizes his Noodle discs truly deserve to wield bureaucracy’s deadliest driver? 🔨🗃️
…or did the Hammer just hammer that paperwork pun itself?