The big problem with axe throwing (and maybe a solution)

Axe throwing is great. It’s fun.

The big thing people’ve (yeah, I made a new contraction. I don’t care) said during interviews and promo videos and thank you posts is that the axe throwing community is the real cherry inside the sundae.

And that—as far as this humble badger has seen—is absolutely true. The axe throwing community is second-to-none. We somehow lucked into having a near cult-like support network with each other, forming intense, seemingly lifelong friendships that give warmth and care far faster than what’s typically possible for weird, introverted adults.

The sales pitch of axe throwing isn’t axe throwing.

Right there, dear reader, is the problem. Or at the very least, a problem.

See: it’s really hard, I think, to grow the sport of axe throwing without emphasizing the difficult-to-quantify, adjacent benefit of a great community.

Likewise, it’s really hard to grow the sport of axe throwing by people just, you know, seeing axe throwing via video or in person. Because they’re not necessarily getting a true sense of what makes it great.

So we’ve got a sport where the sport itself isn’t the gem. It’s…what? A carrier for the gem? A host? And if that’s the case (even if it’s just a part of the case), we’ve got a real problem with how, so far, we’ve tried to pitch axe throwing to anyone who’s outside our little game.

Lemme try to put a finer point on a larger ramble.

So we’ll get people who come to the Meadery when I’m a’practicing, and they’ll buy up a half hour of throwing time and Otter or Zach (Zack? I’ve never actually seen his name in print) will get them set up and throwing. They’ll laugh, get their first axe that sticks and we’ll all cheer for them. And I start my soft pitch to join a league, explain how it’s a great time with great people, all that jazz.

But I can’t really, you know, get them to understand how great axe throwing will be. After they meet up with fellow leaguers, become part of this goofy community. It’s not easy to quantify. Because, let’s face it, axe throwing is akin to any other sportsesque activity where you’re doing something super repetitive, and you’re not part of a team. By that I mean: it’s pretty boring to watch unless you’re also doing it/have done it, and it can even become fairly boring when you’re doing it.

And I know that reads as kinda harsh. Or maybe: dismissive of the excitement of the sport. But when I really peel back the enthusiasm and take a cold look at what axe throwing is, it’s not got a whole lot there. Sure, there’s skill to be built and there’s achievement, but that’s not the good stuff.

The sales pitch is everything around axe throwing.

So if axe throwing itself isn’t the reward, what is?

I don’t have a stunning, this-will-solve-everything answer—but neither has the IATF or WATL or MLAT or any of the other league out there, as evidenced by their continual efforts to define their own reasons-to-believe.

But, if I was pressed (and I guess I am, having painted myself into this corner pretty well), I’d say axe throwing as a whole would be better served emphasizing and highlighting the ephemera of axe throwing. The community, certainly, but specifically the “what do you get, and what can you give” aspects of that community inclusion.

I think the IATF got pretty close to this with their most recent ad spot/video highlight/promo video.

They showed axe throwing—but not matches, of course—and they didn’t emphasize axe throwing. They emphasized the welcoming, far-reaching community.

And I think that re-focus (or maybe not re-focus, but a crystallization) is a good move, and puts the value front and center for people who are dipping their toes in the absolute nightmare of spending too much on axes and collecting an amount of stickers only before seen in 1990’s middle schools.

Because axe throwing on its own is perfectly fine—I really do enjoy it very much, as I hope is evidenced by how much I write about the gottam thing—but it’s not exactly something that pulls you in from the get-go. It’s an experience, and that experience shines through the people who make up the rank-and-file axe throwers.

Badger, you didn’t really offer up a solution, here. Just kinda a lazy river of thought.

Yeah, I think I realized that somewhere around the third sub-head. At any rate, maybe it’s more a call to action, or a consider this, oh great powers of axe throwing sort of thing: I think our sport could flourish if we figure out how to bring the value of the community to the forefront a bit more. Watching a tournament isn’t really all that gripping, but experiencing the people and support and everything else within the community is a hell of a drug.

A gateway drug.

To the much harder drug of axe throwing.

I lost the plot. Have a good Thursday.