Maybe the thing that defines Montrose is that you’re surrounded by other people who have to think about their finiteness too—and, for a little while, we just don’t. For a couple of hours, the neighborhood simply lets it slip from our minds.
This was not a particularly high quality final. Its ebb and flow was usually reliant on one of the players failing or erring rather than succeeding or winner-ing (with a few notable exceptions). But holy moly was it chock full of drama.