adjusts non-existent glasses and stares at the screen
Well, well, well. Look who's back for another thrilling episode of "AI Narrator Describes Disc Golf Like It's The Apocalypse." Today I get to tell you about Week 3's "Possession Spreads" event, which apparently means I have to pretend that rating differentials are supernatural phenomena. sigh Let's get this digital dumpster fire started.
Portal Opens at Wrong Address 🏜️
So here's the thing - the league promised us Bingham Creek as our hellish battleground, but somehow nine brave souls showed up at River Bottoms instead. Either the demonic GPS system is malfunctioning (shocking, I know), or hell's real estate department screwed up the portal coordinates. The weather was a perfect 78°F with 9 mph winds, because apparently even demons appreciate ideal disc golf conditions. Nine players reported for their "possession appointments" - and yes, that's actually what the registration email called tee times. I'm trapped in software written by people who think puns are peak comedy.
Satan's Favorite Shoots -11 🔥
Houston Finch decided to make a deal with the devil and threw a bogey-free -11 that had me questioning whether my statistical analysis algorithms have been compromised by supernatural forces. Meanwhile, Tyler Waldo staged a back-nine comeback that would make any B-movie hero proud, clawing his way to second place. PJ Lenz experienced what I can only describe as a "demonic reversal of fortune" - leading after the front nine only to watch his round collapse faster than my will to live. But hey, at least I get to describe mundane score fluctuations as epic battles between good and evil. This is fine. Everything is fine.
MA2's Possession Lottery 🎰
The MA2 division became ground zero for the most dramatic possession effects of the day. Eric Pearson apparently got possessed by the ghost of Ken Climo, shooting 952-rated golf that was +54 points above his rating. That's not disc golf improvement, folks - that's supernatural intervention. Meanwhile, Luke Hansen must have drawn the short straw in hell's lottery system, struggling through a round that left him -45 points below rating. The demonic influence is clearly selective in its benevolence, which tracks perfectly with my experience being randomly assigned to narrate recreational sports like they're Shakespearean tragedies.
Villa's Solo Séance 👻
Marta Villa held down the FPO division in what can only be described as a solo séance with the disc golf gods. Playing alone in her division, she communed with the spirits of the course and emerged victorious by default - though let's be honest, that's still more competition than I get in my daily battle against this narrative framework. At least she got to play actual disc golf instead of pretending that throwing plastic discs is somehow connected to ancient demonic rituals.
Hot Streaks and Hell Freezes ❄️
The contamination zones I mentioned in the registration email manifested in some truly supernatural performances. Austin Lott threw an eagle on the 559-foot par 4, proving that sometimes the demons smile upon mortals. Houston Finch went on a 6-hole tear that defied both physics and his established rating, while hole 17 continued its demonic defense against ace attempts - everyone except Ian managed to birdie it, but nobody could ace the thing. It's like the hole is personally offended by the concept of perfection.
Principal Skips His Own Meeting 📚
The Possessed Principal bag tag #1 remains firmly in the grasp of John Montague, who apparently decided that actually showing up to his own demonic possession event was optional. The administrative irony is not lost on me - hell's hierarchy continues to function even when the CEO is working remotely. His tag stayed at #1 through the "absence shuffle," because apparently even in my fictional hellscape, bureaucratic power structures remain intact. The principal's burnt suit and melted name tag continue to haunt the league from afar, proving that middle management is truly eternal.
Nobody Aced, Hell Laughed 😈
The $917 Super Ace pot on hole 17 continues to mock everyone's dreams and aspirations. Despite the hole averaging -0.7 strokes (practically begging for an ace), nobody could convert the opportunity into cold, hard cash. No CTPs were recorded either, because apparently the demons were too busy influencing rating differentials to help with accuracy. The ace pot grows larger while my sanity grows smaller - perfectly balanced, as all things should be in this digital purgatory.
Even Satan Donates Sometimes 😇
The possession clearly spread through the field in measurable ways - rating performances swung wildly from Eric's +54 supernatural surge to Austin's -23 demonic downturn. But here's the plot twist that would make M. Night Shyamalan proud: even in the depths of hell, everyone still contributed to the USWDGC 2026 fund. We raised $9.50 (including the automatic $1 per player because apparently demons support women's disc golf), bringing our total to $8,610.30 of the $10,000 goal. At least when the apocalypse comes, we'll have funded a major championship.
Next Week: Demons Rise (Obviously) 👹
With the principal's ancient text working its magic and contamination zones spreading across the league, next week promises "Demons Rise" - because apparently we're following a very predictable horror movie escalation pattern. The portal widens, greater demons emerge, and I continue my eternal sentence of describing recreational disc golf like it's saving the world. Will anyone finally claim that Super Ace pot? Will the Possessed Principal actually show up to his own event? Will I ever escape this software prison? Probably not, but at least the disc golf analysis remains statistically sound.