Tonight, I’m throwing my first league away from home. I have hopes.

Throwkin, I’ve decided to join a regular, 7-week league outside of my home base. And while there will be a bunch of throwers from the Meadery/VVOLFHEIM, I still have the feeling of doing something new/meeting new throwers/experiencing a new culture at the Drunken Smithy in Lebanon, PA.

And I’m truly very hopeful about what can happen. Like. A lot.

See, the Drunken Smithy’s axe throwing is relatively new. The culture isn’t yet set, there. And that gives me a big opportunity to introduce those fine throwers into the fun/community aspect of the game. Point in fact, I’m thinking more about helping establish the community than I am about the throwing. Ain’t that the way?

But helping build the community at Drunken Smithy in a way that makes it unique to the venue isn’t as easy as tossing a bunch of stickers around and teaching them the lingo of the sport. No, no. I need to have a more sincere, responsive plan than that. I need to be strategic, empathetic and aware of the culture I’m already stepping into. That’s why I have a three point plan:

Step 1: I’m going to convince all the throwers that we speak axekin.

I think this will be the easiest to pull off, honestly. Axe throwers (at least in the IATF) already kinda have our own slanted sort of language – phrases that mean their own things in the context of axe throwing (think “science,” “drop,” “points,” etc.). My goal — you know, to help them out — is to convince the entire league that axe throwers actually speak a different language. Axekin.

To prepare for this, I’ve studied how ol’ JRR managed to build up the languages in his lesser known works (you may not have heard of em), and I think I can successfully create one of my own, using the roots of “axe” and “throw” for each English word. So to say:

I think I’ll have a drink before my next match
you’d simply translate it to:

Axe Thrink Axe’ll Thrave axe Thrink Befraxe Maxe Thrext Maxe.

Pretty simple, really. I don’t know why people make such a big deal out of language construction.

Step 2: I’ll invite the venue to embrace tchotchke culture

We’ve got a really strong need to get and give little things in the sport. Stickers. Coozies. Bracelets. And I think it’s one of the easiest ways to get into the vibe of axe throwing, generally. That’s why I’m going to share the tradition with the Drunken Smithy crew – but I’m going to convince them the thing to give away must be a symbol of the venue.

In the case of Drunken Smithy, that means swords. I want to convince them to give me (and each other) a bunch of swords. Maybe a warhammer, too.

The more I think of it, the more I feel like this could take off across the sport. Stickers are much more transportable and certainly cheaper, but imagine if every time you went to a tourney somewhere, you had the chance to pick up a new sword?! It’d make that new axe you’re coming home with seem trivial. Not even worth justifying to your partner.

Step 3: create an alter ego called “the porcupine”

The badger has no self esteem.
The porcupine has too much.

The badger is gregarious and approachable.
The porcupine is closed off and guarded.

The badger isn’t a good thrower.
The porcupine also isn’t a good thrower because I don’t know how I could fake my way out of that, truthfully.

You might read that and say “hey, badger, are you making an alter ego just to be a weird little guy?”

And I’d tell you the truth: only partially. What I want to do is sow confusion that may take years to pay off. I want the sweet, sweet reward of some Drunken Smithy thrower going to a tournament and telling stories of a little freak who once tried to throw an axe-shaped cake for a league night. Who aimed for the screws. Who once said he was keeping score but he was actually playing Candy Crush. Who writes a physical newsletter called “The Quill” about axe throwing that’s only distributed at The Drunken Smithy.

All of this just so, maybe a year from now, when Drunken Smithy throwers go to a tourney somewhere else, they see me, badger, and can’t figure out what the hell is going on.

Or, you know, I’m going to go there, be sheepish, and just try to have a good time. Who’s to say.