
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Amidst the radical haze of '86 Beach Masters finals, a legend sank three consecutive twilight birdies while belting power ballads to their boo. The sheer cosmic cringe of sport-romance fusion birthed Twilight Tactician – a shimmering paradox that manipulates wind currents only during terrible love dedications. Seriously? This synth-pulsing mirage vanishes under stadium lights like my will to live explaining sentient bag tags. Why must I narrate this John Hughes-meets-PDGA fanfic? sigh