I am getting a little better at this…

Oh, not that I expect my skills to grow to the degree of the guys I was playing tonight. But here, at the Monday Night Cornhole Club, I was actually seeing my level of skill growing enou...gh to throw a few good ones. The problem is, when you are throwing against the world's best, you have nowhere to go but down.

So here we go boys and girls: The Notes From the Field is getting into strange, new territory. As a new talking head in the American Cornhole Organization, I am trying to keep up with names of persons in the game, terms used, and learning how to lose gracefully... and I haven't even managed to do that yet.

Notes from the Field 11/2/09: Looking Up From the Toilet Hole.

Dateline: American Legion Post 450, Milford, Ohio- Stepping into the ring this second week, I am honing my announcer skills by learning about the sport of Cornhole from the ground up. The American Legion Hall has a great spot for us to set up a small competition court for a weekly tournament. It is indoors, well lit and has ample space. Most important, it has a bar in the basement. Not that it matters that much... no wait. No one who reads this column from me is going to believe that. No one familiar with Cornhole is going to believe it either. Suffice to say that our weekly practice spot had to be an indoor venue. In Greater Cincinnati in November, playing such a sport outdoors at this time of year would mean playing under an umbrella and some sludgy mess of a parking lot. We will be happy to give these guys the bar business. The guys a AL Post 450 even cook food on the cheap for us. Pretty sweet.

So we begin the second week at our new tournament venue with a new chance for redemption for some. The function of our tournaments here is to practice and hone skills, while having some fun and talking some trash. In my case, it is now learning the bracket system, learning what is worse than a double-elimination tournament and how to build a little knowledge of the game. That’s right, it was time for me to throw down and get into the fray.

Double eliminations are the bracket of choice for this game. In case you are not familiar with them, consider yourself lucky. I guess it's really not that difficult. It also goes in line with the feel of the game. The way it works is this: to win a double elimination tournament, you have to beat everyone in your lane of the bracket. To be eliminated, you have to lose twice. But if you lose once, you can still win the tournament, by beating the guy who didn't lose yet. You just have to beat him twice. So to sum up: The winner could be the loser if the winner loses to the loser... twice. Got it? Confused? Welcome to my new world.

So where do I come in? Enter the toilet hole.

Frank Geers, President and founder of the A.C.O. has a way of getting people interested in his game. Knowing that some of the folks that were going to be coming to the Monday night Board Meetings would not have the shining skills that some of the men here display, he wanted to give us basement dwellers a chance. So appears the Toilet Hole: the basement of the double elimination tournament. Anyone who was unlucky enough to drop their first two games, could stick around and win a loser's losers bracket. The prize? Ten bucks, and believe it or not, bragging rights. Jokes and missives about the chance to become the “King of the Toilet Hole” began flying about with as much bolstering and bragging as the winner of the weekly tournament. And what became funny was that everyone was bragging about being the first one to place in the new bracket. Everyone wants to be the Underdog. A few jokes went about regarding what the scepter of office would look like. No one who had recently eaten dinner wanted to dwell on that too long.

The rounds began with everyone looking to show well. But it was pretty clear where I was going 5 minutes into the first game. My first round pick was a guy named Sean, who I had just witnessed sink four bags in the cornhole, in a row, twice, all while taking a cell phone call. Sean was demonstrating a complete lack of distraction. Don’t know what the phone call could have been about, but it didn’t slow him down one instant. He mopped the floor with me in a matter of minutes. Don’t get me wrong; Sean was a gracious winner, noting I held him off on one board by cancelling his points off. Sympathy compliments? I will take all I can get.

And that is the reason I really like showing up here. While there is considerable joking around here and a lot of wisecracks, there isn’t any that is mean-spirited. Why? Because we’re playing a game named after a… no, wait. To let that one out of the bag actually goes against the code. “The first rule of Cornhole is, you don’t talk about Cornhole!”

Well it’s not really a rule. But it is a funny note. I have since being involved in this adventure only had one person bring up the origin of the name and why it is so popular. It is sitting there in the middle of the street, waiting to get run down by a diesel truck on a rampage. So the jokes fly, the suggestions compile into wisecracks, and the land mines lay about the court like rooster bags (more on that later) waiting to be picked up. The name of the game, Cornhole, is like the elephant in the room that no one can discuss, without teenage giggling starting up.

And so after getting trounced by one of the pros, I proceeded to end up the second player on the Toilet Hole Tournament list. Having received a “bye” in the first round of the tourney, I was spared being the first to claim Toilet status. Although I lost my second game to a man named Gary, I did indeed get a laugh out of the fact that in one round, I actually sank three bags in a row for the first time. The problem? My opponent was doing that about every other board.

And so my brush with greatness ended, placing me in the bottom feeder category with two other guys, who were actually a LOT better than me. They showed this by handing me my third loss in a row. WOW, I really stink at this game. Joe and Mark finished out the Toilet Hole round, taking the coveted prize: enough money to “buy some diapers on the way home.” Oh, what excitement, what frivolity. No, it doesn't even deserve a exclamation point.

And so the first week of November sees me beaten handily in my first exposure to league play. Thank goodness I am only going to be the emcee in Vegas. I am beginning to get input into this column as well. Trusting that there will be more bizarre moments in Cornhole, as well as the terminology of the game and as in previous articles in my Field Notes, a section on injuries… I wonder if they consider a hangover induced headache for hazard pay.

By the way, Stellar Play of the Week goes to Jack Stagge, reigining World Champion from Lynchburg, OH. During a warm up round, while hamming it up, Jack and his opponent started throwing two bags at once, stacked in one hand. The result would have made a film reel had we been taping. Jack sunk two bags at once. Gotta take off the hat for that one!

Next week, the competition gets stiffer, the cornhole gets rougher around the edges and everyone is a little more careful when they pick up their bags (hehe). Get ready to throw down with the greats. We will be meeting with them, discussing some of the terms, and seeing if this reporter can improve his standings in the SCAR… I will leave that one for next week… and trying to at least look like I know what I am doing. Until then, from beneath the toilet...

See you on the field.

P.S. To those interested: The American Legion Hall is in downtown Milford at 450 Victor Stier Drive, in Milford. Across the bridge into Milford, turn left at the light immediately after the bridge and go straight until the road ends. Post 450 is at the end on the left. Look for the big gun out front. A great bunch of people, the AL Post frequently hosts dinners, has special events and routinely donates time and energy to charity. Check them out on the web for a schedule of events at http://www.facebook.com/l/80073;www.post450.com. And stop by on a Monday night after 6pm. We will be throwing. Just whatever you do, don't touch the toilet brush. It might be someone's scepter. Then again, it might not...Read More