SEATTLE — How many sports do you know of that include a toilet-paper run and a lighter?
None that will be featured in London during the 2012 Summer Games, that's for sure. So let me introduce you to a sport that if ever deemed Olympic-worthy would easily become the most popular: flaming tetherball.
The “ball” in flaming tetherball is a roll of toilet paper soaked in 3 ounces of white gas, the stuff that saner people use in camp stoves and lanterns. It burns nice and bright, but without the obvious drawbacks of gasoline. That said, it's wise to avoid applying hairspray before playing and to keep a fire extinguisher or four nearby. And a liability waiver or two.
"I have a waiver for everything," said Rusty Oliver, a metal artist and the madman behind this madness. "I even have a waiver for the men's room."
Oliver is the proprietor and CEL (“chief executive lunatic”) of The HazardFactory, an industrial arts studio that "produces work in which risk and the artistic re-direction of technology are key components."
You may be wondering what flaming tetherball might have to do with any of that.
Well, Oliver created flaming tetherball while brainstorming ideas for party games to enjoy during a birthday bash seven years ago. Apparently even he deemed flaming Frisbee too dangerous, but that’s another story. He built a post from scrap metal lying around the studio and affixed a stainless steel cable to hold the TP.
As incongruous as it might sound, safety is a key component of this very weird sport. If you want to play, you’ve got to dress the part: Safety goggles, leather gloves, long-sleeve jackets and an old tennis racquet are a must. You can choose to wear a lacrosse mask or other protective headgear. One cat, apparently strong with the dark side, wore an Imperial Stormtrooper helmet.
All the gear seems to do the job. During my visit to a match last week, the only injury I heard about was some guy with tennis elbow. The action started with 14 rolls of TP. I know you’re wondering, so I’ll tell you: A roll lasts about 7 minutes from ignition to burnout. I was impressed. It must have been two-ply paper.
The rules are simple: Players score one point for every hit. As in any sport, the key is keeping your eye on the ball, something made all the more important here by the fact the damn thing’s on fire. Although it looks easy, flaming tetherball is harder than it looks. N00bs often go nuts, flailing away madly to start and running out of steam before the end of the set.
"Most people can only go two, three games," Oliver said, adding that most people average about 15 points a round.
There were some folks who showed up last-second after learning about the game on Facebook. One woman, who may be the coolest high school teacher ever, got in on the action and deemed it awesome.
"The tetherball is on fire,” the teacher, who also coaches soccer and basketball, said. “It is no longer sissified."
I took a turn, playing Oliver as Iron Maiden (Up the Irons!) blared in the background. It's surreal. It’s dark, and all you can see is a streak of fire whizzing past. Depth perception is a challenge. And as the ball burns, it becomes lighter, changing its behavior. It begins moving in increasingly unpredictable ways, making the experience something like trying to hit R.A. Dickey's knuckleball.
I told Oliver I’d like to see Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal play a match. He didn’t have the slightest clue who I was talking about, which I admired. Weird Sports exists in its own universe, one where the icons of mainstream sports don’t mean anything and even a schoolyard game can be made cool with the addition of fire.
