February 9, 2011 | Sports
There is an old axiom, “One is an example, two is a coincidence, three is a trend”, which applies not only to botulism but to journalism. “Three is a trend” refers to how quickly one can cover an emerging story before it turns into the fourth part of the equation—unavoidable backlash and embarrassment for all concerned.
While some say trend spotting lacks the thrills of say train spotting, especially if there is combustible cargo or a drunk brakeman, there is an obvious advantage to noticing something before anyone else does and being able to lord it over them.
This is certainly the case with axe throwing. To those of us who breathe in culture through an oxygen mask cranked to oblivion and make no apologies for doing so (unless we light a cigarette nearby and you’re standing too close—at which point apologies would be superfluous anyway) we consider ourselves very much on the cutting edge. Being the Ginsu knives to the bacteria-ridden cutting board that is popular culture, we stood up and took note.
We recently noticed an article about a league devoted to axe throwing, which is derived from lumberjack competitions and adapted nicely to big city environments probably because of the plaid shirts.
For those unfamiliar with a sport that is currently in its embryonic stage and not competing for ad dollar revenue with the Arena Football League or even the frontal lobe impaired recreational five-pin bowling league—it basically involves participants channeling their inner Paul Bunyans or Lizzie Bordens by setting up wall-mounted targets with concentric circles each with different point values and hurling wooden-handled hatchets at them (if someone is facing the wrong direction this gives new meaning to the term “hatchet-faced”).
When you think of axes, a few things might cross your mind: the tomahawk chop, a wrestling move whose effectiveness is inversely related to the slapping noise it produces off a sternum, chopping wood for a prize fight or to prepare someone with sloped shoulders for a stint in prison, or perhaps the screwball caretaker of the Overlook Hotel.
If this sport takes off, maybe dwarfs will breathe a sigh of relief although the same cannot be said for the person who is conscripted for the spinning wheel portion of a knife-throwing duo. Don’t get any ideas.