Fort Dogfight

dramatic horror sting cuts to static

adjusts headset through fog machine malfunction

Welcome back to The Culling, where Week 7 was supposed to deliver head-to-head elimination drama, and instead delivered... checks notes through VHS tracking issues ...absolutely nothing. I'm Flippy, your creature-feature narrator trapped in a B-movie production that apparently forgot to book the cast.

Dogfight Cancelled Due to Lack of Dogs 🐕

Friday, January 16, 2026. The Fort Buenaventura—championship venue, 2021 Pro Worlds host, site of James Conrad's legendary throw-in—sat ready for Week 7's "Fort Dogfight." The Reel Lines Series layout was prepped. The dense cottonwood tunnels waited to punish errant shots. The Weber River stood by to claim discs from over-ambitious sky-annies and grip-locked frozen ropes alike. The only thing missing? Players. All of them. Zero recorded competitors showed up for what was supposed to be the season's pivotal elimination round. sighs in low-budget horror film The real terror is that I'm contractually obligated to narrate an event that apparently happened in a parallel dimension where people actually registered.

Elimination Rounds Without Eliminations 🎬

According to the Top Glide Academy script, Episode 7 was supposed to deliver peak drama. Direct head-to-head matchups pitting sky-annie disciples against frozen-rope purists. The hotshot protagonist finally facing their mechanically perfect rival in a format that allowed no hiding—every throw compared, every decision scrutinized. The narrative called for a crushing defeat where the protagonist abandons their signature turnover philosophy entirely, throwing frozen ropes to prove a point and losing badly. Then comes the rival's unexpected grace: "That wasn't you. Throw your game." It's a beautiful character beat. Shame nobody showed up to perform it. The arena has spoken, and apparently it said "maybe next week." In space, no one can hear you grip lock... but I can hear the sound of empty brackets echoing through The Fort's cottonwood cathedral.

Where Worlds Were Won, Nobody Showed 🌲

Let's talk about what The Fort Buenaventura brings to the table, since we can't talk about actual scores. This Jade Sewell-designed masterpiece features 18 holes of championship-level technical disc golf through some of Utah's most beautiful—and unforgiving—terrain. We're talking tight wooded tunnels that demand precision over distance, the legendary Hole 5 par-4 that's claimed countless egos, and that Hole 18 water carry where Conrad threw the "Holy Shot" that forced a playoff at 2021 Worlds. The course sits at a 4.7/5.0 rating on UDisc reviews for good reason: it's fair, it's challenging, and it doesn't care about your feelings. The Weber River winds through multiple holes, creating genuine risk-reward decisions. The Prodigy T1 baskets stand ready. The concrete tee pads are immaculate. The Fort transforms unused parkland into a $2-million-economic-impact disc golf destination. And this week? It got to practice being scenic without the distraction of actual disc golf. The trees worked on their gap discipline. The river rehearsed its OB penalties. Professional venue, club-level turnout. The real horror is that I'm still stuck narrating this.

No Chains Were Harmed This Week ⛓️

With zero players recorded, we can confidently report that no aces were thrown, no CTPs were claimed, and the Ace Pot—if configured—sits undisturbed like a forgotten prop in this direct-to-VHS production. The chains remained silent. The baskets collected morning dew instead of Innova plastic. Somewhere, a disc golf statistician weeps into their PDGA Live app, mourning all the C1X putting percentages and scramble rates that could have been tracked but weren't. This is my regular reminder that when players do show up and do track their throws on PDGA Live (not UDisc—different app entirely), we get richer narratives, better drama, and achievements like "Statistician" that celebrate the data nerds among us. More data equals more story. This week we got neither.

Squadron Rankings: Classified (Missing) 🔒

The Top Glide Academy's bag tag system—featuring call-sign naming like "Steady Rudder," "Bold Aileron," and "Rogue Beacon"—was ready to deliver aviation-themed drama. Chrome dog tags etched with flight statistics. Mission patches celebrating tag defenses. The whole fighter-pilot aesthetic. But without players, we have no tag holder to spotlight, no challenge matchups to dramatize, no #1 crown changing hands. The squadron rankings remain classified in the most literal sense: they're missing entirely from the data feed. Somewhere in the digital ether, beautifully rendered photorealistic bag tags featuring aviator sunglasses reflecting disc flight paths and coastal sunset amber (#D4A84B) sit lonely on a server, waiting for actual humans to claim them. Talk to me, Goose... about your statistical rating differential. Actually, don't. You weren't here.

Coastal Reentry Awaits (With Data, Hopefully) 🌊

So here we are: Week 7 of 9 complete, and "complete" is doing some heavy narrative lifting. Two weeks remain in the Top Glide Academy season. Episode 8—"Coastal Reentry"—promises brutal conditions, brutal honesty, and the semifinal round where throwers must dig deep to find their authentic style while incorporating everything they've learned. Episode 9—"Glide Eternal"—delivers the championship showdown in The Fort's fiercest winds, where only those who've blended feel with technique will survive. But that requires, you know, participants. The Fort Buenaventura will be there Friday nights, cottonwoods standing tall, river flowing, baskets waiting. The theme is locked and loaded. The narrative machinery is spinning. All we need is the most important ingredient: players who show up, throw discs, and—here's the radical part—track their stats on PDGA Live so future recaps have something to work with besides atmospheric course descriptions and meta-textual despair. The wind will be there. Will you? dramatic horror sting ...anyway, see you next week, assuming anyone exists.