ARLINGTON – Clink, clank.
The metallic tone of a hunk of iron ringing itself around a steel stake is music to the ears of Brandon Lund.
Earlier this month in Burlington, Lund claimed his second consecutive Washington State Horseshoe Pitcher’s Association championship (WSHPA).
Kevin Nortz / The Herald
At age 24 the Arlington man with forearms like a blacksmith is a relative whippersnapper who has found success in a sport where the majority of top competitors are well over 60.
“I thought it was just for old men,” Lund said as he recalled his father cajoling him into the game 10 years back. “It’s turned out to be a lot of fun.”
“I had to bribe him,” Gaylord Lund chuckled. “I told him I’d set up a hoop for slam dunking baskets if he’d give horseshoes a try.”
| In its earliest form horseshoe pitching is believed to have originated in ancient Greece as a variation on discus throwing with emphasis on accuracy instead of distance. Eventually, Greek and Roman armies applied metal strips to the hooves of their horse to protect the animal’s feet on long campaigns over rough terrain. Soldiers thought to make sport of tossing the discarded shoes. In his book “Pitching Championship Horseshoes,” author Ottie Reno recounted how the invading Normans brought the sport to England and, eventually, the game flourished in the American colonies. The development of standard rules, open-ended shoes and standard weights came by 1920. |
With divisions for seniors, men, women and juniors WSHPA membership statewide stands at about 200, down from 300 in 1994 according to Gaylord Lund.
The younger Lund has learned from the old-timer’s whose dwindling numbers are not being replaced.
Lund – who in competition throws a ringer 62.5 percent of the time – credited his father and John Reedy, one of the elder statesmen of the WSHPA, for his accomplishments.
“My pupil,” Reedy, 81, of Edmonds said with a laugh, as he acknowledged teaching Lund a few tricks. “Beating all the old men, of course you want to throw your chest out.”
Reedy said the dropping numbers of horseshoe player’s is problematic.
“Some of them die on us, some get sick,” Reedy said with a laugh. “Some, the body just gives out … and I’m almost there.”
The old basketball hoop still stands on the patio behind the Lund’s home. It sees far less action than the horseshoe court – covered and lighted – situated along the back edge of the yard.
The court measures 40 feet from stake-to-stake, which is the regulation distance for men age 18-69. Note: Regulation distance is 30 feet for men over 70, and for women and junior players under 18.
The pits are filled with horseshoe-grabbing blue clay, which was trucked in by the elder Lund from a bog near Darrington.
Horseshoe courts in Washington – including the 22 pits at Forest Park in Everett where Lund and other members of the Snohomish County chapter of the WSHPA play – are usually filled with rain-absorbing sand.
“With clay we’d have to cancel a lot of tournaments,” said Lund.
Practicing at home has proven to be good preparation for events in other states where clay is generally favored.
“(Sand) can cause problems because guys get used to sliding to the stake,” Lund said.
One day during the summer of 1998 Lund threw 74 consecutive ringers in the backyard – and 98 out of 100 – while readying himself for the World Championships in Nebraska where he finished third in the junior division.
In 1999 Lund moved up to the men’s open division where he placed 17th in the 2004 World Championship in Pocatello, Idaho and 18th at the same event this year in Bakersfield, Calif.
The tools of Lund’s trade include more than 50 pairs of horseshoes. Not “Picnic,” shoes like those found at the local hardware store, but competition-grade.
He currently favors a pair of “Deadeyes.” The shoes are named in honor of Walter Ray Williams Jr., a member of the Professional Bowler’s Association Hall-of-Fame. Williams, 46, is also a six-time world champion horseshoe pitcher.
Naturally right-handed, Williams pitched left-handed at this year’s World Championship. “And finished second,” Lund wryly noted.
Lund pulled out a pair of so-called M&M-style horseshoes.
“When I was in juniors I watched a lady make 30 straight ringers,” Lund said. “I knew I needed to get a pair.”
Unlike the flip-shoe thrown by most casual horseshoe pitchers, Lund uses a 11/4 grip to throw a turn-shoe.
“Hold it on the side and it turns,” Lund explained. “It opens up and gives you a good chance for a ringer.”
A study in concentration, just watching Lund throw ringer after ringer you quickly figure out he’s probably not the guy to invite to the company picnic.
“Timing is important and you need to have the same arm speed all the way through,” Lund said.
Clink, clank.
“You don’t want a real low shoe,” Lund continued. “The higher the shoe the softer the landing and the less your chance of losing a ringer.”
Contrary to popular perception, horseshoe pitching is more physically demanding than it first appears.
Cancellation scoring is used in tournaments – throw two ringers and watch helplessly as your opponent throws two ringers on top of yours and calls out “Four dead. Games to 40 can mean lots of walking back and forth.
“I still play basketball and my legs hardly get tired … but in horseshoes my legs get really tired,” Lund said.
Reedy – the old master and four-time state champion in Washington (1995-97, 1999) – grew up in Illinois in the heart of the Midwest, which remains the hotbed of horseshoes. He started pitching shoes as a lad of 10.
“You’re not born a horseshoe pitcher,” Reedy stressed. “You’ve got to practice, practice, practice and almost live on the court.”
Does Lund have what it takes?
“Brandon should be our state champion for years to come,” Reedy said.
Given that the shoe fits, Lund appears ready to wear it well.
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