Is Jousting the Next Extreme Sport?
The gates of the Gulf Coast International Jousting Championships opened at 6 p.m. one Friday in January at a 4,500-seat arena 13 miles outside Pensacola, Fla. Some of the spectators were dressed in leather doublets and velvet gowns; some wore jeans and cowboy hats or American-flag-patterned do-rags. Most seemed to have come out of idle curiosity rather than any previous knowledge of the sport. “From what I hear, the combat’s going to be smackin’,” a man named Paul Johnson told me, punching his knuckles together. He estimated he had seen the movie “A Knight’s Tale” a couple dozen times, and he hoped this event would measure up. He leaned over to a man in front of him. “When they ride in, are they going to be hitting really hard?” he asked.
RENAISSANCE MAN Jeffrey Hedgecock, an artisan armorer, in Leeds, England, where he was one of the few Americans to compete in the Sword of Honour Tournament.
“Oh, yeah, this is the real deal,” replied the other, a Renaissance-fair regular named Renzy Hill. “There’s a real possibility of getting hurt.”
Johnson nodded happily. “That’s what I want to see,” he said.
Things lagged a bit in the first half of the competition, which was taken up with mounted games like spearing targets painted on bales of hay. The crowd of about 750 was tipsy and eager for action, and it took in the proceedings restlessly. But then, in the third jousting match of the evening, Shane Adams, who was heavily favored to win the championships, faced Rhos Tolle, a 54-year-old retired Marine who was jousting competitively for the first time. Adams struck Tolle squarely in the chest with his lance and sent him flying from his horse.
It was as if someone had sent an electric current through the arena’s aluminum bleachers. Men leapt to their feet with their fists in the air. Teenage girls clutched one another’s arms. Tolle lay on his back on the ground flanked by two squires and didn’t move for a full minute. When the squires pulled him to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell again before limping off.
“I want to see another guy get paralyzed,” a boy in front of me squealed, waving a toy sword....
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RENAISSANCE MAN Jeffrey Hedgecock, an artisan armorer, in Leeds, England, where he was one of the few Americans to compete in the Sword of Honour Tournament.
“Oh, yeah, this is the real deal,” replied the other, a Renaissance-fair regular named Renzy Hill. “There’s a real possibility of getting hurt.”
Johnson nodded happily. “That’s what I want to see,” he said.
Things lagged a bit in the first half of the competition, which was taken up with mounted games like spearing targets painted on bales of hay. The crowd of about 750 was tipsy and eager for action, and it took in the proceedings restlessly. But then, in the third jousting match of the evening, Shane Adams, who was heavily favored to win the championships, faced Rhos Tolle, a 54-year-old retired Marine who was jousting competitively for the first time. Adams struck Tolle squarely in the chest with his lance and sent him flying from his horse.
It was as if someone had sent an electric current through the arena’s aluminum bleachers. Men leapt to their feet with their fists in the air. Teenage girls clutched one another’s arms. Tolle lay on his back on the ground flanked by two squires and didn’t move for a full minute. When the squires pulled him to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell again before limping off.
“I want to see another guy get paralyzed,” a boy in front of me squealed, waving a toy sword....