Photos by Zach Humphreys and Curtis DeVore.
Frisco Railpark doesn’t need much help looking good. The Railpark & Rope Tow sits right in town with the Tenmile Range stacked behind it, features lined up against a wide-open mountain backdrop. It’s the kind of place that already has an overwhelming feeling, even on a random weekday lap.
Bringing the Triple Threat Throwdown to the rope tow, it turned into something bigger than just a contest. It felt like a gathering point — for locals, for crews passing through, for heavy hitters, and for anyone who just wanted to get in the mix.
The day started the right way. No paywall, no gatekeeping. Registration for the community open jam was free. If you didn’t have a season pass, the Town of Frisco hooked up discounted tickets so cost wouldn’t keep riders off the hill. That detail mattered.
More than 100 riders registered for the open session. From the first tow, the rope was full. There wasn’t a “pro” lane and a “local” lane, everyone rotated through the same rope tow, shared in-runs, and waited their turn like it should be.
Judges were active on the course. Cobie Harloff, Ziggy Avjean, and Dylan Larney were taking notes on foot right by the features.
As the afternoon wore on, the crowd built along the fencing and banner line. People weren’t just passing through, they were posted. Cameras came out. Crews starting to drop together. The tone shifted gradually from open session to something more focused. The teams were ready.
By the time the moon was shining, the stadium lights on the course, the Frisco Railyard is primed for a throwdown. Lips manicured, rope full, breath hanging in the air. That’s when it felt like the main event was about to mean something.
The Triple Threat Throwdown isn’t complicated, but that’s what makes it intense. Teams of three. Drop back-to-back-to-back. Hit separate features at the same time. Make it cohesive. Make it count. Over 40 teams registered, the bracket was deep. No soft drops. A lot of heavy teams going for the throne.
The roster blended global talent with riders who know that rail yard like it’s their backyard.
Yuki Kadono, Toro Komiyama, and Yuto Yamada brought serious technical depth. Clean control. The kind of precision that makes complex rail tricks look routine. They weren’t just throwing difficulty, they were landing almost everything composed and controlled.
On the other side, teams like Aaron Hoffmann, Mitch Holtz, and Ezekiel Goebel came in with power and chemistry. You could tell they’d ridden together. Their drops were tight. No wasted motion at the top. No second-guessing.
Other heavy squads filled out the bracket. There were no filler rounds. Only 8 teams moved onto finals.
Opposed to our previous events, 8AM Knights shifted the soundtrack. The speakers pushed heavy metal through the venue, changing the tone of this event.
Three riders dropping simultaneously to different features, metal riffs cutting through the cold air, steel being slapped from all directions. From the outside it looked chaotic, but inside the course, it was calculated.
The event had a strong media presence. Zach Humphreys, T. Bird, Kaleb Loper, and Khari Pressley worked the perimeter and the inside lines all night. Long lenses tracked full drops. Fisheyes under the features. Quick reaction shots caught teammates at the bottom as soon as someone stomped. Nothing felt staged.
By the time the bracket narrowed down, the banner line was packed. Shoulder to shoulder. Locals, visiting riders, families, industry heads. Everyone leaned in closer as the final heats dropped.
Riders locked in. Tricks got more technical, but the real difference was execution.
The Satellite Team — Mitch Holtz, Aaron Hoffmann, and Ezekiel Goebel — put together the most complete performance of the night. Strong first hits to set the tone. Technical mid-line tricks. Clean finishes. Every rider did their part. No weak links. Their timing was dialed. When one rider cleared a landing, the next was already snapping into their feature.
When the final scores came in, Satellite stood at the top.
$2,000 cash. Best Team of the Triple Threat Throwdown.
No controversy. No debate.
It wasn’t overly polished. It wasn’t corporate-heavy. It felt like snowboarding — fast, loud, technical, and community-driven.
As the lights shut off and crews packed up, you could still hear people talking about specific drops, specific teams, specific moments. That’s how we knew the event landed.
Frisco backed it. Boarders packed it.
That’s the first Triple Threat Throwdown.
