How we talk when we talk about coaching in axe throwing.

It's a universal experience in axe throwing. A right of passage, almost:

You get hooked, you start getting a little bit of experience, and (sometimes because you ask for it, or sometimes simply because people want to be helpful) suddenly you're getting 6 pieces of advice from 5 people.

Bring in your elbow. straighten your back. Watch where your feet are. Step then throw. Loosen your appendix. Consider the lily in the field. Embody the fighting spirit of the Light Brigade.

And somewhere in that mess, everyone giving you advice is recalling when they, too, were new to the sport and getting a cornucopia of advice - a real fruit-of-the-loom amount of advice, and not knowing what the hell to do with it. I think the majority of us have had it happen to us, and have been a part of the chorus of advice hurled at newer throwers.

Friends. We gotta talk about how we talk. About coaching. In axe throwing, particularly.

Nobody got better by listening to all advice, all the time.

Lemme give you an example. A lil' examplerooski.

Bob is one of the best, if not the best axe thrower at the Meadery. Sure, Waterboy and Rob and Chapman and Viking all give him a run for the money, but on paper, he's the guy. And as such (at least when I first started), I listened to every piece of advice the guy gave me about throwing.

And I don't want you to think that listening to his advice was a bad idea. BUT:

1. I was also listening to Rob's advice. And to Scott's advice. And to so many other's advice.

2. A lot of other throwers had a throw that was wildly different than Bob's throw.

3. It meant I was trying to do a bunch of things that worked against each other, or didn't work at all.

Because I was new, I didn't know enough to know what pieces of advice contradicted each other, so I was just trying everything all willy-nilly and probably confused myself far more than I helped myself.

As a more experienced thrower, I think it's important to recognize if a newer thrower (who is looking for advice) is already getting some tips from another person - and if your advice is gonna work alongside what's being taught already. Otherwise, your'e gonna have someone who's so overloaded with tips that they aren't gonna make heads or tails of anything.

To that same point: sometimes not giving advice is more valuable.

I recall when Joy started throwing at our axe house - like all new people, she was getting advice hand-over-fist from everyone, and it was clearly, you know, confusing.

Eventually, told people to just be quiet for a while. And in that blessed silence (which was maybe 2 or 3 weeks), she figured out her throw, what needed work, and what kind of advice was the most beneficial.

Dear, gentle reader: sometimes people gotta know what they are before they can know what they wanna become. Joy did that, got the advice that was most useful, and is now a stone cold killer at throwing axes.

There is a compulsion to immediately help people, and that's a great default. But much like a box full of puppies overtaking a small child who's just eaten ice cream - sometimes it can be overwhelming to be rushed by a half-dozen, yapping creatures. So resist the urge to give advice until the time is right (and the person you're giving advice to has a better sense of what they wanna improve).

Observation and Limitation.

One of the best ways to give feedback, I learned from Axe James. I was having a bangarang of a marathon performance, but I had also expressed a dislike of my current throw (the one I was doing so well with). Because I was doing well, she decided to not say anything until the tourney was over.

Because, despite my personal dislike of my throw, I was throwing very well.

Because mentioning anything could have thrown off what was going well.

Because I didn't ask her, directly, to give me any feedback in the moment.

And because she waited, I was ready and in a focused space to hear her feedback. There's a big difference between being in the learning space and the doing space, I think, and telling someone some advice when they are in the doing space ( I feel like "doing space" is a middle-schooler's description of a bedroom, no?) can often be forgotten.

To that end, giving people advice on a particular, expressed concern is almost always gonna land better. If I am happy with my throw, but unhappy with my...I dunno...foot placement or body rotation, I'm gonna be more receptive to advice focused on those two things.

That's a convoluted way to say: coach with specificity. If the thrower you're helping says they feel like they can't keep their elbow in, or always drop low on clutches, help them to address and understand those specific problems. Keeping to specifics can help cut down on some of the "noise" that comes from a whole axe house trying to help a single person.

If someone wants or needs more complete coaching support, they'll tell you. Or, realistically, you'll end up talking about everything when trying to adjust a singular element of their throw.

As always, be open to giving away trade secrets.

I don't think I've encountered someone who's, like, protective over how they throw - but just as a closing note: if someone wants to learn to do something you do when throwing, just teach them. For one thing, it'll not be identical to what you do - but also, it's a great opportunity to help someone be more confident and tied into the sport.

I don't think there is one right way to throw an axe - but there are a bunch of wrong ways to do it. And once someone learns to avoid those wrong ways, it's your job as a fellow axe thrower to help them grow and expand their skillset. So long as you're not confusing the hell out of them, giving contradictory advice, or offering up tips when they'd rather, you know, not have that.