There is a perennial issue with axe throwing which, truthfully, we as a community really don’t have a handle on. Axe throwing is fun, sure, but turning fun into a self-sustaining sport is tricky.
So tricky, in fact, we've seen multiple axe houses shut down after failing to find a profitable blend of public and league engagement or, perhaps more notably, an inability to move casual throwers (who see axe throwing as a novelty) into axe throwers who see the sport as something worth investment.
Performing the balancing act of walk-ins vs. leaguers mean axe houses must experiment. After all, at the end of the day they are businesses, and businesses need to make money.
But the line between business and community is a fraught one. Go to far to one side, and you have a potentially successful business, but no community. Too far the other way, and you’ve got a thriving community, but may struggle to pay operational bills.
Recently, I had the great opportunity to talk with Alex James (my personal axe throwing idol and all around axe-community keystone) about this very subject.
Here’s what we talked about, and what she sees when fostering axe throwing community and building profit come to blows. A note: Alex's part of this conversation will be in italics, just to make clear her thoughts compared to mine.
A second note: Alex is speaking on behalf of Alex, and no-one/nothing else. Her thoughts/opinions in no way reflect the opinions or thoughts of her employer, Urban Axes.
Here's the issue: how do axe venues view themselves, and how are they viewed?
Most of my conversation with Alex centered around the focus and purpose of axe venues. Alex works at one, as most of us know, and like many axe venues, it’s a hub for really big, community-celebrated events.
But it’s also a business, obviously. Like, duh, of course it’s a business. And that means the people who own and operate axe throwing venues must look at what’s making money, and what isn’t.
Seeing as I don’t work at an axe venue (despite many appearances to the contrary), I asked Alex why axe venues don’t just make leagues, for instance, be community run or offer just the space to throw (and not much else) in order to save money. Her insight was hella valuable:
Alex: I see limiting services and venue-specific roles hurting the community. I think it puts newer throwers at a significant disadvantage. It shifts responsibilities to league members who pay to be there and not have to worry about [operating the league]. [Throwers] come to hang with friends, have a good time, and focus on their goals.
I feel like removing roles or cutting down on services only offers a quick, short-term financial break. But it costs them more in the long run. Without these employees promoting events, encouraging newcomers to bring their friends and family for groups or even into leagues, growing the sport becomes much more difficult.
When we run specialty events, Urban Legends, fundraisers, etc., it’s the league community who shows up the most, not the general public. And league operators (coaches, employees, etc.) are the ones who have the job of bringing people in, and making sure everything runs smoothly.
Without that kind of support, you’re looking at pushing those responsibilities to the axe throwing community, and that can mean a less-than-ideal experience for the people paying to be there. And there’s a level of responsibility, too: it’s a value-add to have league coaches/league runners make sure things go off without a hitch, and it helps illustrate why league membership or tourney participation is valuable.
The cost of making money
There are things that axe venues can do to save money. Cutting down on services like dedicated scorekeepers, or dedicated coaches. I asked Alex if simply doing these things could make enough of an impact. As she explained, it doesn’t:
Alex: It seems things are moving more towards a member-run model, taking the financial stress off venues.
However, that model can have a net result of fewer qualified people overseeing everything and keeping things fair. This creates an environment where a person could take advantage of less experienced throwers during game play.
IATC and the Urban Open both operated with volunteers scorers. I think having volunteers can be great, and gets the community involved. But venues don’t always have volunteers in positions that really dictate how things are run, or how issues are resolved.
I think there's a real "cut off your toes so your shoes fit" kind of mentality with this sort of move, where axe houses are doing short-term things which, ultimately, remove the stamina of the sport as a whole.
If you have a sport people really like, but make the entry point even FEEL like it's sloppy or poorly organized (requiring the people who are paying an ever-increasing amount of money to participate in), they'll just find something else to do. Or, at the very least, they're more likely to scoff at the amount they're paying when considering how much "work" they put in to actively participating in the sport itself.
Profit vs purpose: the benefit of investing in people who invest in community.
This is something I hadn’t considered – or at least not as fully as Alex articulated: axe venue employees act as the gateway for accessing the larger community. Acting as ambassadors, really, coaches and other employees take the stress off of league throwers to find people who want to get involved, help build that existing community, and increase the value-of-investment for throwers. does putting the profit vs purpose argument into play even work when looking at a business model?
Being one of the throwers in my tiny axe house who currently works on building community (more notably would be Chøpman and Otter Guy), I can say doing that community-building work takes time and effort. It does mean I have to skip practice to help out new throwers, or run all over the place to do the AxeScores/measurement stuff and not just hang out and enjoy my time during league.
And I’m doing all that work despite, you know, paying to be there. My mind reels in thinking about how much more fun/community experience I’d have if someone existed who’s job was to handle all of that meta business. Despite contrary appearance, I'm not an idiot: the meadery isn't really a large enough place to warrant dedicated league coaches/scorekeepers.
But a Badger can dream.
Are axe throwing venues ignoring how much the axe throwing community invested in them?
This brought us to a natural point in the conversation: what do you [Alex] wish axe houses understood before they make decisions which ultimately feel like they are prioritizing casual throwers vs league members? Why do you see the move to "less for more" as a bigger problem, overall?
Alex: I wish [axe venues] Understood that investing in the league community comes back to the business.
I get really frustrated when venues place more value on the profits from the general public than on league members.
Who comes back each season?
Who has events and groups?
Who comes to tournaments?
Pays for practice hours?
Has bar tabs each time they’re in?
Who buys merch?
Our league communities have given more support to us than the general public during Covid. They bought to-go beers, boards, merch – anything they could to ensure Urban was making something no matter how small while we were closed. I feel like that’s not unique to Urban, and it’s frustrating to have that kind of loyalty ignored when decisions are made that directly impact the experience of league members.
I do understand while venues make MORE money from the general public, leagues are the backbone of the business. Even if leagues "break even", speaking on just the cost of league vs the cost of the venue to run it with staff, league membership is consistent and reliable income that, at an absolute bare minimum, helps keeps the doors open and the lights on. That kind of reliable income helps enable venues, overall, an opportunity to generate additional revenue.
So what's the answer?
This conversation with Alex left me with more questions than answers. Or, maybe to not use a tired turn of phrase: it made me consider, for perhaps the first time, whether an axe throwing business is really the way to think about axe throwing venues in general.
I don’t know if I’m going to put this in a way that makes sense, but lemme try: I don’t think big axe houses can really be profitable if they try to be both a weeknight activity place for casual throwers AND a community hub for the sport. I think the way axe houses grow successfully is by focusing on one or the other – or using one to support the other, let’s say.
If an axe venue wants to be a place that makes money, they’re naturally going to make decisions that don’t benefit league throwers. If they want to be a place that grows and fosters the axe throwing community, they’ve likely got to make decisions that aren’t profitable – at least not at the start.
And maybe the answer isn’t found in figuring out how “traditional” axe venues can make it work reliably. Maybe it’s more about creating community-led, community-owned spaces (think a private club that isn’t really private – just not intended for walk-in public stuff). Maybe the axe houses of the future cost $XXX dollars a month/a year and allow for anytime throwing, anytime tourneys – but don’t have to be open when people aren’t using the space for leagues and the like. Think a community boxing club or moto garage.
And I want to be SUPER CLEAR about something:
I’m not an economist. I’m not even a business owner – so I realize I’m far outside of my depth when it comes to understanding what it takes to keep the lights on.
But it does seem to me that something is off - that many axe venues aren't able to keep their footing - and that loss of stability is being passed along to the experience of throwers in a way that makes it difficult to stay as involved or engaged as we'd like. So which will help keep the community strong and growing: an axe throwing business, or an axe throwing community hub?
Both?
Neither?
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