Horse Shoe Pitching

One morning while Wayne and Carol Flora were here visiting we took a walk on the beach and stopped for the traditional  Bloody Mary.

 

While we were relaxing, Wayne told us that when in college he was the intramural horse shoe pitching champion.  Well, it just so happens that there is a bar here called Crazy Canucks that has excellent live music and a horse shoe pitching contest every Sunday afternoon. 

I informed Wayne that I used to be a slow pitch softball pitcher which has the same basic motion as pitching horse shoes.  As soon as I indicated this minor interest in the sport I saw Wayne begin to twitch with excitement.  We decided to enter the contest that next Sunday afternoon. 

Since it had been quite a few years since either of us had pitched a shoe—actually more like a few decades—we decided to go a little early and practice.  When we arrived we got a set of shoes from the bartender and headed for the sand. 

Amazingly enough, the horse shoes were actually falling close to the box.  And, we got some really good news.  The notorious team of Roger and “Susan the Stare” were not going to be there that day.

We found the judge, signed up, and paid our entry fee.  Every contestant pays $5 Belize to enter and the winning team takes the pot.  It was double elimination so you had to lose twice before you were out of the contest.   (I began to get a little excited too.  Maybe I could supplement my retirement income with horse shoe pitching money in addition to my golf winnings.)

We sat down, had a Belikin beer and tried to relax.  Pretty soon we got the call.  It was our turn.  Although nervous, our adrenaline kicked into high gear.   Our opponents were a husband and wife team from the Seattle area.  Both were obviously highly talented and had honed their hose shoe pitching skills to a level superior to most mere humans. 

Wayne threw first.

His opponent went next—no points.  Then I threw.

My opponent followed—again no points.  It was going to be a long, tight, exciting, game.  Eventually our nerves quieted down and our natural skill and ability took over. 

We won.  We were actually in the winner’s bracket.  We sat down, had another Belikin, and waited for our next test.  Gail and Carol were almost as excited as we were over our unexpected success.  It took quite a while for all of the teams to finish the first round so we had another Belikin (possibly a questionable decision). 

Soon we were at it again.  This time it didn’t take nearly as long as the first game and our earlier success was the only thing that saved us from total humiliation.   Who were those guys? 

And it got worse.  Our next opponents were the dreaded Frank and Mel.  Frank was reportedly the best in the islands. 

Thump, fifteen to four, we were out! 

The good news was that although the winners got the money in the pot, tradition said they had to buy a beer for everyone who competed.  Beers cost five dollars so basically your entry fee paid for the beer.  The winners ended up with no money.  They really got nothing except being put on a pedestal by all the other horse shoe throwers, the prestige of being the best, the admiration of everyone there, the reputation among all of the tourists and locals of being horse shoe throwing champions. 

Who needs that? 

I guess I will have to rely solely on the supplement from my golf winnings after all.