“Do you want to go for a clutch?” the referee asks me. I have a difficult decision to make. A bullseye shot is easier, and would win me the match. Even a near miss would get me a tie. But where’s the glory in that? “Clutch,” I say sheepishly.
The onlookers roar their approval. I take a deep breath and remember my training – concentrate, don’t try to overthrow it. Be one with the axe. I release the axe in a fluid motion.
Established in 2016, the IATF (International Axe Throwing Federation) currently represents 10,000 members in six countries and has recorded over 50 million official league throws. The rival World Axe Throwing League has had events broadcast on ESPN, joining an eclectic list of “sports” on the channel.
And with the recent opening of a venue in Adelaide, where I’m trying my hand at the sport, Maniax now operates an axe-throwing warehouse in most major Australian capital cities. Other venues like Axxe in Canberra and Lumber Punks in Brisbane, Perth and the Gold Coast offer similar experiences. For some, it comes not a moment too soon.
“I’ve been sending the owners emails for more than a year asking them when it will open,” Steve Day tells me. So far, the white bearded medieval enthusiast says it’s lived up to expectations.
“It’s like ten-pin bowling,” he tells me, “but with an edge.” Another participant christens it “the millennial version of lawn bowls, with less booze” (apart from Brisbane, the venues have a strict “no alcohol before throwing” policy).
Like both bowling and lawn bowls, axe throwing is intended primarily as a social activity, so Day is thrilled to be a part of Adelaide’s inaugural league. With him is a motley crew that shows the burgeoning sport’s wide appeal. Every length of beard is represented, from stubble to Gandalf’s apprentice. And, while axe throwing sounds like the stuff of buck’s parties and survivalist groups, women outnumber men and the age of participants ranges from early 20s to mid-60s. Other leagues have participants as young as 14 years old.
Just as varied are the throwing styles they employ. There are one and two-handed techniques, axes hurled with alarming force and others that loop in a deceptively slow arc before embedding themselves in the targets.
Whatever the style, the goal is the same – a bullseye in the middle of the target is worth five points, with concentric circles surrounding it worth three and one. Sounds simple, right?
Trying it for myself, I discover that the first challenge is getting the axe to stick. Unlike darts there’s no guarantee that it will land pointy end first, and finding the sweet spot to throw from takes a few goes.
Next, I need to work on my aim. “Don’t overdo it,” one of the in-house “axeperts” advises me. “It’s like golf; if you go too hard, you’ll slice it.”
I briefly imagine John Daly with an axe, then try to banish that terrifying thought from my mind. Breathe deeply, step forward, throw. To my surprise, the axe lands near the middle of a board with a satisfying thud.
Venue manager Josh Kilvington thinks I’m ready for a match and lays down a challenge. When he nails a bullseye on his first throw I suspect I might be out of my depth, but I manage to match him and then take the lead. It doesn’t last; after four throws he leads by three and has a decision to make.
The final shot of each round brings the option to go for a “clutch shot” and aim for one of the two green, apple-size dots in the upper corners of the target. It is the axe-throwing equivalent of asking for a 7-10 split – success brings seven points and glory but there’s no margin for error.
Aiming for the bullseye would give Kilvington an unassailable lead, so I’m surprised to hear him opt for the clutch. The referee turns around to the other competitors who are watching us and announces the decision. “Cluuuuuutch” they bellow in unison before he shoots, just wide.
When it’s my turn, I follow his lead, and watch my throw miss the small green dot by about a metre.
Day comes over to me grinning. “Good fun, right?” he asks in a manner that suggests there is only one correct answer. I may not be competing at the world championships any time soon, but I have to admit that it’s been an entertaining evening. And more importantly I still have 10 fingers.
Source: TheGuardian
