A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.

Welcome to The Crokinole Chronicles.  I only recently discovered this great game and have attempted to make up for lost time by delving into all things crokinole.  I watched tournaments with expert players on YouTube envious, purchased a custom board by Willard, converted some friends, indoctrinated my children and have pushed my wife to the brink of insanity by incessantly saying the ‘c’ word. 

What baffles me, is that I never stumbled upon this game prior to my 43rd year on this earth.  I am sure I must have had opportunities to discover this game years ago.  I lived in Buffalo, New York, right across the river from the home of crokinole, Ontario, Canada.  I crossed that border many times; taking school field trips, visiting ‘the Falls,’  and attending performances at the Stratford Festival over several seasons with my English classes at St. Bonaventure University.  I even honeymooned in Stratford for a week, but never ran into crokinole.  Even the band Moxy Fruvous, another Ontario mainstay, which I have seen live, name drops it in their song “King of Spain”  but I never took notice.  And so it goes.

But once I did, I went from obliviousness to outright obnoxiousness.  My wife tried to placate me, after my initial references to it, with a commercially made board.  She did try to make me happy which I love her for, but I knew I wanted the real deal; a tournament style board made by a true blue (red?) Canadian by hand from real maple.  Who cares if I never played and wouldn’t know the difference between a pro board and one for family fun?  I knew I needed it. 

Luckily I discovered Mr. Willard Martin, crokinole craftsman, right before he retired, to fulfill that inexplicable itch.  Only problem, the board created the desire for more.  I combed antique shops, flea markets and online for more.  Fourteen boards are now stuffed behind hutches, hanging on walls, and monopolizing the kids’ playroom.  This doesn’t even include the ephemera, disks, score counter and carrying case acquired along the way.

While all this has satisfied my desire to accrue all things tangible, it didn’t satiate my intellectual curiosity.  Where did this game come from?  Who invented it? How did it evolve over time? The internet gave me some quick answers and provided some excellent resources.  I learned about; the creation story of  one Eckhardt Wettlaufer, 1876 and Ontario, Canada; Tavistock as the heart and cultural center of crokinole; and the Carrom Company, Muzzies, Willard and Hilinski, among others, as craftsmen and manufacturers.  And the past can’t be mentioned without  ‘Mr. Crokinole’, Wayne Kelly, who pioneered historical research when none existed.  His work, The Crokinole Book, is still the book on the subject.  Unfortunately his passing took away a key ambassador and chronicler of the game.

This is where the blog comes into play.   There are still many stories to tell and history to share.  It just needs to be pulled from the ‘ditch,’ flicked and most importantly shared with others.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough to win a tournament or skillful enough to make my own board, but I hope I can contribute to crokinole culture by offering some stories and bringing them to light and give others an opportunity to express their experiences as well.  So please keep playing, enjoy the site and add your stories.