Horseshoes, Bramble Tamble-style.

You can find the remarkably florid prose below verbatim on several horseshoe-enthusiast websites, such as this one and this one. I have reproduced it in full here; visit either site if you want to be treated to a picture of a midget pitching a horseshoe.

Assuming that you are a spectator on the sidelines of a public court, you will see an expert player perform this way. (right handed pitcher)

The player takes a position on the pitcher's platform, to one side opposite the stake. Placing the feet carefully, so he/she is well balanced, standing erect. Gripping the shoe, extending it to full-arm length in front. He/she holds the shoe -caulks down- at about a 45' angle to the ground. Swinging it up on a level with the eyes, sighting it at the opposite stake. Bending slightly at the knees and leaning forward at the waist, he/she swings the shoe backward in an easy manner. A split second before the back-swing is completed, he/she steps forward. This delivery-step is executed with the foot that is opposite the delivery-arm. The shoe does not pause at the end of the back-swing. The arm swings forward, straight from the shoulder, like the pendulum of a clock. As' the shoe passes the standing leg, in the front-swing, he/she brings -it to a level position with a free, natural roll of the arm. At this exact moment, the delivery-step is completed and the body-weight is smoothly shifted to the left foot. The eight knee straightens up to its natural position and the body rises with the swing. He/She releases the shoe as it swings up in line with the eyes and the opposite stake.

Released in a level position, the shoe leaves the hand cleanly. The release is effected with a deft and delicate wrist-motion. There is no jerk or snap of the arm and wrist. After releasing the shoe, the player's hand swings up, above the head, in a graceful follow-through. At no time is there any lost-motion in the delivery. All movements are smooth and well-coordinated. The shoe floats lazily through the air in an arc that is about 8 feet high at its highest point. (The height of the trajectory varies with different players.) Wobbling as it travels, the shoe begins to "break open" just before it crosses the foul line of the pitcher's box. The shoe drops open-end-first onto the stake. There is a sharp clink as the shoe encircles the stake. A ringer! A few moments later, the second shoe is sent on its way to land on top of the first one. A double ringer!

I'll let you in on a secret: I am trying to become better at pitching horseshoes. While you’ll note that the narration above is a picture of how an expert pitcher performs, you’ll also note that most of us – and I am at the top of the list – are not experts. What would the narrator say if he/she were describing me, the horseshoe novice?

The player takes a position on the pitcher's platform, to one side opposite the stake. Placing the feet carefully, so he/she is well balanced, the player does not notice the children’s toys on the ground around him. He stumbles, trips and falls on his hands, but manages not to kick his beer over, which is sitting on the sidewalk out of range of errant horseshoes, or so he thinks.

He holds the shoe parallel to the ground – sometimes caulks down, sometimes caulks up, sighting it at the opposite stake with one eye shut as if he were sighting a rifle. He swings the shoe backward in a herky-jerky manner. A split second before the back-swing is completed, his son enters the picture, says, “Daddy! Mine!” and reaches for the horseshoe. The player stops suddenly so as not to konk his son in the head with the shoe. His son grabs the shoe, then grabs the other shoe that is in the player’s other hand. The player throws his hands up in the air and says, “Fuck it,” finishes his beer, goes to the cooler to grab another one, and flops down in a chair on the patio. With a motion somewhat similar to that of a discus thrower, his Son flings the horseshoe in his left hand about 3 feet. Then, with gusto, he flings the horseshoe in his right hand about 2 feet. He looks to his Daddy for approval and claps. Daddy claps with him and says, “Yay!”

Son goes off to play with his trike, and Daddy gets out of the chair and walks back to the horseshoe pit. He holds the shoe parallel to the ground – sometimes caulks down, sometimes caulks up, never the same way twice in spite of his efforts to be consistent. He sights it at the opposite stake with one eye shut as if he were sighting a rifle. He swings the shoe backward in a herky-jerky manner. A split second before the back-swing is completed, he steps forward with either foot. The arm swings forward, and his shoulder pops. Still, he lurches forward with his pitch.

Released in a level position, the shoe jerks out of the player’s hand. After releasing the shoe, the player's hand swings up, above the head, in a graceful follow-through (I’m good at that part). The shoe takes on the guise of a wounded gymnast, wobbling as it travels. Just before it crosses the foul line of the pitcher's box, it seems to be stuck in a perpendicular position. The shoe lands on its heel and rolls toward the road. Shit. A few moments later, the second shoe is sent on its way to the opposite stake. Shit again – it rolls down the hill and comes to rest in the neighbor’s flower bed.

The player has two thoughts at this point: “I really should get a backstop built,” and “I hope I can snag that shoe before the neighbors see it.” Before he can start toward the opposite end, he feels something crushing his foot. His son has ran over it with his trike.