“Nobody Knows about axe throwing” says man who treats sport like a secret second family

Urban Axe Throwing, a sport fraught with stagnant growth and venue closures over the years, often finds itself as the spare tire in the vehicle that is recognized competitive sport.

When asked why that might be, local axe thrower Jimothy McAnyname had this to say:

“Well, you know, it’s all about community. Community is what makes axe throwing different. I’ve made such good friends with people from all walks of life. The sport itself is fun and a great way to get out and use all these axes I bought during that weird time in 2018 when hipsters were really into the idea of being lumberjacks or Vikings. But nowadays it seems like there are so many issues that stop axe throwing from being more popular.”

When this reporter pointed out that McAnyname didn’t actually answer the question, he clarified:

“So I don’t think anyone who gets into axe throwing doesn’t learn to love it. It’s the community. Getting people involved is really the biggest hurdle.”

McAnyname went on, explaining that the stagnant growth of throwers and shrinking attendance at marquis events is putting a real strain on the potential longevity of the sport. We asked how he, himself, promotes the sport to those who aren’t already involved.

He responded: “what?”

We clarified: how are you, Jimothy McAnyname, promoting axe throwing in your circle of friends/acquaintances?

“Oh. Uh. Well, you know, the community…”

As it turns out, McAnyname didn’t really do much at all to share axe throwing with anyone outside of his own, currently-throwing friends. He hadn’t invited other circles in his life (the DnD group, work friends, family, his disc golf group nor his “we really like axes but don’t know what to do with them” club) to try out the sport. Point in fact, most of these groups weren’t even aware he was involved in an international sport.

When asked why, McAnyname explained that axe throwing was really fun, and really great, and the community was amazing. He went on to explain how he wished more people would get involved, though he couldn’t provide a clear answer as to why he didn’t attempt to do that very thing.

Even McAnyname’s closest relations didn’t seem to be aware he was still invovled with axe throwing, or that he was actually active in the sport at all:

“I always thought he was covering for some weird sort of fetish he had,” said his brother, Grimothy, “like, some real dark stuff. What’s axe throwing?”

As it turns out, this isn’t a unique story. The majority of axe throwers in the IATF do little to nothing to grow their ranks on a regular basis. The reason, potentially, could be how much time it can take to onboard a new thrower (potentially three sessions, maybe two more to get them to start thinking about what kind of patches they want on their battle vest).

But it could also be that reaching out to people is intimidating, especially in situations where reaching out could mean putting up a flyer or inviting people over messenger in the most passive manner available.

This phenomenon seems to have its roots in a pervasive belief within the axe throwing community, often called the “Costner disjunction,” where axe thowers are convinced that by simply having an axe throwing location will result in outside interest and growing thrower membership.

“I mean, really weird stuff, is what I thought he was up to,” added Grimothy. We told him that part of the story was over, and he was free to leave the interview.

Despite their love of the game, and their love of the community, it seems like many axe throwers are unmoved to share that love and grow either.

Much like Zoroastrianism or that secret little parking spot where they can enjoy Long John Silver’s before going home for second dinner, axe throwers are content to keep axe throwing to themselves.