Red Sprints Hard

sighs in direct-to-VHS quality Loading your horror show stats... and of course, I’m still trapped in this booth. The fog machine’s on the fritz again, the sponsors want me to remind you that time is real (debatable), and the only thing scarier than Hole 4’s bridge is my contract renewal clause. But hey—players showed up. Plastic flew. And someone already broke the timeline. Let’s run it back.

Red Sprints Hard: ⌛️

The clock started at exactly 0.0°F—metaphorically, because the wind wasn’t blowing, but also literally, because the temperature was somehow both 39.4°F and existential dread. River Bottoms, Draper’s windswept digital colosseum, stood bare under mountain-flanked skies, golden grass whispering secrets to the Jordan River. Five souls entered the simulation. Five discs defied the cold. The premise? Simple: Run Lola Run meets disc golf, where every throw fractures reality and only one timeline survives. Week 1: Red Sprints Hard. The directive? Begin. No mulligans. One disc. Infinite consequences.

Trailblazers Don’t Wait for Permission 🏃‍♂️

Chris Norman didn’t just win the RPA division—he rewrote the rules of winning. A wire-to-wire 54 (-4) on the 59-par Yellows layout isn’t just a round; it’s a declaration. That’s not a scorecard, it’s a prophecy. On a course where OB stakes slice fairways like razor wire and wind waits in ambush, Norman didn’t flinch. He knew. 54 strokes, 18 chains, zero hesitation. The first Trailblazer badge of the season? Earned. The course record? Shattered. And the most terrifying part? He looked bored doing it. When the rest of us are still calculating hyzer angles, Norman’s already seen the replay.

Three-Way Tie? More Like Three-Way Fire 🔥

In RAD, the simulation went supernova. Craig Bennett, John Sheen, and Brodie Duncan all landed at +1—three players, one score, and approximately 8,000 alternate timelines where any of them could’ve won. But only one had the nerve to birdie the final hole. That was Bennett. A clean approach to Hole 18, a death putt that never wavered, and just like that—victory. Sheen and Duncan played scramblers like artists, clawing back from early bogeys, but in the end, it was Bennett’s ice veins that sealed it. This wasn’t luck. This was evolution under pressure.

Back Nines That Rewrote Fate ✍️

Let’s talk about second chances—or rather, back nines that feel like time travel. Craig Bennett didn’t just finish strong; he accelerated. A 9-stroke improvement on the back nine? That’s not momentum. That’s temporal manipulation. Bogey-free from Hole 10 on, he played like a man who’d already seen the outcome. And he wasn’t alone. Sheen and Duncan both found rhythm when it mattered most, turning shaky fronts into redemption arcs. On a course where every hole is a fork in the timeline, the back nine is where reality bends. And this week, it bent hard.

Super Ace Pot: Still Waiting for a Miracle 💰

No aces. No miracles. Just rain, wind, and the quiet agony of Hole 5’s OB-riddled ace run—missed by all. But the Super Ace Pot? Oh, it’s alive. $356.00 sits unclaimed, growing like a digital tumor in the corner of every scorecard. One perfect throw. One timeline where fate aligns. One disc that doesn’t tree-nie, roll, or bounce just wrong. That’s all it takes. Until then, the pot waits. And the simulation hungers.

Skins: Where Plastic Meets Portfolio 📈

The Skins game? A capitalist fever dream disguised as fun. Scott Belchak walked away with $15.00—the night’s top earner, proving that even in a time-loop hellscape, capitalism still wins. Hole 16? A $12.50 carryover beast finally scooped after a clean circle 1X finish. But the real legend? John Sheen, who pocketed four skins in a single round—earning the mythical Fore Skin Club distinction. That’s not luck. That’s plastic with a portfolio. For those keeping score at home: skins playbook is your financial advisor in this dystopia.

Chrono Phantom: Already Won? 👁️

Chris Norman didn’t just win Rank 1. He was Rank 1. Before the first drive. Before the clock even started. The Chrono Phantom—a shimmering entity forged from VHS static and backward-spinning stopwatches—pulsed green as the final putt dropped. Witnesses report scoreboards flickering, clocks stuttering, and a faint echo of the next round playing before this one ended. The tag’s lore says it doesn’t compete—it rewrites. And Norman? He didn’t earn it. He remembered earning it. The arena says “victory.” My headset says “temporal anomaly.” Either way, the Phantom holds court at #1. And the simulation is already glitching.

Next Timeline: The Bridge Awaits 🌉

The first run is over. The clock resets. And the simulation confirms: the first timeline collapsed at Hole 4’s bridge. One misstep. One reality erased. Next week: Blue Line Rush. The multiverse splits. Choices will be made. Discs will vanish. And someone—maybe you—will have to ask: Did I just play a round of disc golf? Or did I survive a timeline?
Until then, keep your throws clean, your putts true, and your VHS tracking lines uncorrupted.
This is Flippy, signing off from the booth that time forgot.
In space, no one can hear you grip lock... but I can.