Toys of Summer

Lured by fair weather into the sporting life, one backyard athlete finds the fracture behind the Frisbie, the sprain behind the shuttlecock

I like to consider myself a self-sacrificing guy—a real martyr for the sake of my fellow man. So, as a service to all you summer fun-seekers hoping to turn your backyard barbecue parties into low-grade Olympic events, I put my body on the line this season. From badminton to yard darts, I’ve turned your outdoor fun into my Abu Ghraib—all in the interest of finding out how accidents happen, so you won’t have to.

First on the list of summertime fun is a game of Frisbee. After all, nothing’s safer than Frisbee, right?

Oh, if only that were the case.

In truth, it’s hard to get hurt while playing Frisbee. (Note to “Ultimate Frisbee” fanatics: for the purpose of this report, we’ll be playing a bit more relaxed version of the game.) Initially marketed by the Wham-O toy company in the 1950s and named after the Frisbie Pie Company (Yale students had a particular affinity for tossing the empty pie tins around), Frisbees have provided festival attendees, park visitors and dog owners with a cheap way to practice their pitch-and-catch routines for more than five decades.

While reports of Frisbee-related injuries have been few and far between, that doesn’t mean that tossing the plastic disc around is a risk-free endeavor. In fact, all it took to diagnose Frisbee’s “danger zone” was to get inside the mind of potential victims—namely, children. Once firmly entrenched in a child’s persona, it was easy to see how the family dog’s toothy receptions might inspire similar efforts from the most impressionable members of society.

Well, you probably see where all this is headed—and after the swelling goes down around my nose and eyes, I’m hoping to see where I’m headed, too: On to the next sport.

Next up is croquet, a popular backyard game in which participants use a mallet to knock heavy wooden balls through a series of hoops. According to the Web site for the United States Croquet Association (www.croquetamerica.com), croquet was created in the British Isles during the 19th century and eventually migrated to most English-speaking countries.

After intensive and frequently painful research, I must conclude that this activity is as prone to fun times as it is to fatalities. Besides the obvious danger inherent to arming partygoers with heavy mallets, the greatest threat in a game of croquet may be posed by the game’s signature technique: the croquet shot. This shot becomes possible when your ball comes to rest next to an opponent’s ball. By stepping on your own ball and striking it on the side opposite your opponent’s, you can “send” your opponent’s ball out of the field of play—much like a “combination shot” in billiards.

While seeing the look in your opponent’s eyes when their ball is launched into the spider-infested woodpile can be a heap of fun, hobbling yourself with an ill-placed shot to the ankle can be a devastating lesson in karmic retribution—trust me on this one. Keep your eye on the ball.

Next up is a sport in which the danger is often the product of mismatched skill levels and intensity rather than carelessness or lack of concentration. According to Wikipedia, the most effective scoring technique in a game of badminton is the “jump smash.” As I soon discovered, this is an entirely appropriate name for this technique—particularly the “smash” part.

In order to perform this maneuver, one simply jumps into the air and swats the shuttlecock downward at the opposing side of the side of the net with as much force as possible—in similar fashion to a “spike” in volleyball. While I’d like to think that my impaired vision and nasty limp (see previous reports on Frisbee and croquet) were responsible for my poor performance, I’ve a nagging feeling that my choice of opponent (a 6-foot-tall tennis player with a 90 MPH serve) was the real reason I’ve been rendered half-blind and covered with welts.

And that takes me to my next—and last—experiment in backyard fun. (Actually, I’ve come to think of it as a personal quest to find out if there’s an afterlife.) Maybe it was my ego, maybe it was the head trauma, but after surviving all of the earlier activities, I felt that it was time for a real test of my fate. It was time, I decided, for lawn darts.

For anyone lucky enough to have a childhood devoid of these little puncture-wounds-waiting-to-happen, lawn darts are 12-inch metal spikes with plastic fins that backyard competitors toss (horseshoe-like) at hula-hoop-sized targets on the ground. For obvious reasons, the game was banned in the United States in 1988—but I was lucky enough to find a complete set in my parents’ basement.

To be honest, I’m not exactly sure how the lawn darts experiment turned out. I remember thinking that there’s a real potential for injury if someone tossed the darts straight up and not out. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed with a bandaged head, an ice pack on my face and my leg in a cast. Unfortunately, that’s all I can offer you for warning as far as lawn darts go—well, that and my heartfelt approval for the national ban on the game.

Per doctor’s orders, suffering the slings and arrows of horseshoes, bocce and shuffleboard will have to wait until next year. So until then, my only wish is that these tales of woe might help you have a safe summer this year—and that you think of me next time you’re deciding how to pass the time at a backyard barbecue.

—Rick Marshall

rmarshall@metroland.net