Although it has yet to be nominated as an Olympic event, cow-chip tossing nonetheless has mushroomed in popularity in the past 30 years, worming its way onto the schedule of nearly every county and state fair in the nation, snug between time-honored Americana such as the baby-beautiful competition and the pie-eating contest. That includes the Broward County Fair, which has hosted a cow-chip throw since festivities began in 1976.
Hadley Hooper
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Happens at the Broward County Fair at 4 p.m. Saturday, November 23. The fair features a variety of rides, musical entertainment, and community events. Hours are 5 p.m. to midnight Thursdays; 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. Fridays; noon to 1 a.m. Saturdays; and 5 p.m. to midnight Mondays through Wednesdays through December 1. Tickets cost $8, free to children younger than 5. Call 954-970-FAIR.
Pompano Beach Harness Track, corner of Atlantic Boulevard and Powerline Road, in Pompano Beach
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With an eye on the main chance for tourist dollars, the tiny panhandle town of Beaver, Oklahoma -- population 1,570 -- institutionalized the activity in 1970, inaugurating the World Cow Chip Throwing Championship, an event it renews each April on its hallowed fairgrounds. Beaver homeboys and homegirls excel at the "sport," with local guy James Pratt winning top honors in 1996, 1999, and 2002.
Not to be outflung, Broward County boasts its own three-time (1997 through 1999) cow-chip heaving champ: 57-year-old Joel Schanerman. His losses the past two years have grieved him severely. "It's very upsetting to a man who takes this competition very seriously," confesses Schanerman, a psychiatric social worker who serves as administrator for a Pembroke Pines facility that treats adolescent boys.
Despite a reluctance to part with what he terms his "trade secrets," Schanerman allows that he pooh-poohs both the underhand and discus-style tosses. Instead, he digs in "about three steps behind the throw line; then I run up in a shot-put kind of manner and give it the old heave-ho."
Gloves? "When I started competing" back in the early 1990s, he notes, "I established that surgical gloves were in my future." Well, one glove anyway, "kind of like Michael Jackson."
Most important, of course, is chip choice. An aerodynamic chip, Schanerman emphasizes, is innately adhesive -- one that won't disintegrate in midthrow. "Find one of those," he advises, "and you have found a real friend."
Caron de Salazar concurs. She ought to know, having collected cow chips for the annual toss in recent years from a dairy farm in Hollywood. "The best shape is rather flat and like a smallish Frisbee," she explains.
At least 48 hours before the competition commences, de Salazar and her assistants fill several garbage bags with the official offal. "I've never actually counted the chips," she avers, "but I'd say there are at least a couple hundred. The more, the better. I like to give the contestants as much of a selection as possible."
Schanerman, for one, appreciates the effort. Now engaged in rigorous training, he declares, "Come out and see a man regain his championship or fall away in total defeat."
