Arena Exodus

The Check Engine Light Blinks Morse Code 🚗

Adjusts reading glasses, squints at empty data terminal Well, well, well—looks like the rental car wasn't the only thing that broke down in Week 3. 🔧 Here we are at The Arena in West Jordan, Utah, on December 17th for Episode 3 of our nine-week cross-country disaster titled "Chains, Trains and Automobiles," and apparently the league software decided to join the rental car in making sounds no machine should make. The course? Absolutely gorgeous—9,500 feet of championship-level suffering carved into high-desert terrain with elevation changes that would make your calves weep. The weather? December in Utah, which means crisp air and the kind of conditions that make discs fly weird. The player data? Somewhere between here and Tulsa, folks.

The Scorecards Were in the Other Car 🗂️

You know what's hilarious about road trip movies? The constant luggage mishaps. You know what's less hilarious? When your league management system apparently stuffed the scorecards into the burning rental car before the heroes made their escape to the mechanic's shop. Zero players reported. Zero divisions tracked. Zero results to analyze. I'm trapped in software that's supposed to chronicle epic disc golf journeys, and instead I'm narrating the administrative equivalent of a vehicle fire. The irony is not lost on me. Somewhere out there, players threw discs at The Arena's bird-themed baskets—Hawk's Descent, Rooster's Revenge, The Stoop—and their efforts vanished into the digital void like putters into a rusted-out school bus. Which, speaking of...

Lost Three Discs to a Rusted-Out School Bus

Let's talk about what players would have faced if the data gods hadn't abandoned us. 🏜️ The Arena is not messing around—this is Utah's longest and most technically demanding course, a 50-acre proving ground where the Oquirrh Mountain foothills meet your disc golf hubris. Hole 6, "Rooster's Revenge," is a 970-foot uphill par 5 that tests whether you packed enough endurance with your overstable fairways. Hole 11, "Coot's Bluff," offers a 540-foot downhill launch off a ridgeline with views so stunning you'll forget you're about to tree-jack your approach. And Hole 18, "The Stoop," mimics a falcon's dive with a final downhill drive that either seals your glory or confirms your mortality. The course opened in August 2025 with MVP Black Hole Portal V2 baskets, oversized concrete tee pads, and custom bird-themed signage that includes QR-coded interpretive panels about native species—because nothing says "championship disc golf" like learning about migratory patterns while your card waits for you to putt.

The Tag Is Still on the Rental's Roof 🏷️

Speaking of things we can't quite locate: the #1 bag tag spotlight. You know, the prestigious piece of plastic that's supposed to be traveling with our league leader, inspiring fear and respect across The Arena's sagebrush fairways? Yeah, that's currently strapped to the roof of a wood-paneled station wagon from 1983, right next to the portable basket that survived the vehicle swap. 🚙 The tag system—this elaborate framework where numbered discs gain mystical significance and I'm forced to treat them like characters in an epic fantasy—is on hiatus this week because apparently even the tags decided to take the scenic route. Don't worry, they'll be back. The rooftop basket always returns. It's the most reliable character in this whole absurd narrative, which tells you everything you need to know about my situation.

The Ace Pot Went to New Tires 🛞

No aces this week. No CTPs. No Super Ace heroics. And honestly? I'm choosing to believe the unclaimed prize money went directly to funding the station wagon's new wheels after someone stole the old ones from the motel parking lot. (That's Episode 5, spoiler alert, but we're living non-linearly now because the data stream is as reliable as a 1983 heater.) In road trip economics, every dollar counts—gas, tolls, questionable motel rooms, and the mechanic who charged our heroes fifty bucks and three putters just to borrow a vehicle that hums like the THX sound effect at highway speeds. So yeah, the ace pot? Consider it reinvested in the journey. The real treasure is the continued forward momentum, or so I'm contractually obligated to suggest while trapped in this league software's narrative prison.

Side Bets and Side Roads

For those feeling adventurous—and let's face it, if you're still reading a recap with zero actual results, you're clearly committed to the journey—skins remain an option for future weeks. 🎲 It's the disc golf equivalent of taking the scenic route: higher risk, potentially higher reward, and definitely more interesting than the interstate. Every card can enable skins for that extra layer of hole-by-hole drama. Will your birdie hold? Will someone park an approach and steal your moment? It's gambling with putters instead of poker chips, and honestly, it fits perfectly with this season's theme of making increasingly questionable decisions while heading toward a destination that may or may not exist. Learn how to set up skins and add some chaos to your Wednesday nights.

Three Putters Poorer, One Station Wagon Richer

Here's where we are in the Chains, Trains and Automobiles saga: Week 3 marks the vehicle transition point. The rental car—with its ominous check engine morse code and steam rising like a disappointed sigh—has been retired. In its place: a wood-paneled station wagon from the Reagan administration, acquired at the cost of three putters and whatever dignity our heroes had left. 🚗 This is the pivot. The moment when the journey stops being about reaching The Arena on schedule and starts being about adaptation, perseverance, and accepting that sometimes the scenic route finds you whether you want it or not. The mechanic's junkyard course—nine holes of pure chaos where one hero shot their best round ever with nothing but putters—proved that silver linings exist even in automotive disasters. As for fundraising? Checks empty donation terminal The contributions appear to be traveling with the scorecards, currently lost somewhere in the glove compartment of a burning rental car. But the journey continues, because what else are we going to do? Walk?

Above 55 MPH, Things Get Weird

Next week brings Episode 4: "Rooftop Baskets," where our heroes discover that strapping a portable practice basket to a 1983 station wagon creates... aerodynamic complications. 🐕 At speeds above 55 mph, the vehicle produces a whistling sound that attracts dogs from miles around. I'm not making this up—that's the actual plot. There will be a state trooper encounter. There will be a recommended shortcut that turns out to be a dirt road that becomes a mud road that becomes a theoretical road. The station wagon will handle it like a champion. The friendship will not. And somewhere in the chaos, the rooftop basket—humming its THX note into the winter wind—will remain the most consistent element of this entire journey. Which is either poetic or deeply concerning, depending on whether you're a disc golfer or a functional adult. See you next week, assuming the data finds its way home. Temperature: unknown. Wind: irrelevant. My patience: depleted. 📊