yo-yo #84: stock f.a.s.t. 201

last day of school, 2010. we finished up today, and i'm sure impromptu carols and well-wishes are still caroming off the walls and linoleum. i also got to give away 40 yo-yo's today, something i haven't had the pleasure of doing in nearly 3 years. 40 of these 201's.

mind you, it wasn't just a holiday thing; the kids had to earn these (well, ok, kind of). they had to endure 3 weeks of yo-yo physics AND ace a [20 question, all matching] test to take their babies home. they had to learn the difference between transverse and standing waves, and explain the 3 laws of motion with their sleepers, and... yeah. i certainly like to think that they'll retain some of it. i guess i'll let you know in a few years when they get to conceptual physics (and hopefully i am not yelled at). you'll note the faded bison sticker on mine. everyone had an animal avatar to distinguish their throw. bison are cool.

for the last 4 months, yo-yo mania has so fully permeated the halls of the school that i can't make it through carpool duty without being asked for a yo-yo suggestion from a parent, or through a study hall without having to extract a bit of string lint from a bearing shield. yes, it really is that wonderful. it's not like it's been hard or as though i've done anything special. yo-yo's are really, really cool toys. i play with them (all the time) at a school full of kids. you don't smoke dynamite near a powder-keg and expect it to make for an average wednesday.

for 5 years, the 201 has been the first yo-yo i recommend to kids. it looks cool, takes a beating, handles whatever you can, and when you want to pretend that you just NEED an unresponsive yo-yo... it even mods up nice. the velocity is a better beginner yo-yo by far, but i've learned that to a 12 year-old, the numbers 10 and 20 are pretty distant from one another - may they long cling to that naivete.

if you've never had the opportunity, means, or inclination to give a yo-yo to a kid, be they a yo-yo die-hard at a contest, or someone presumably utterly-disinterested by the prospect of manipulating a non-digital toy with their actual-digits... i heartily recommend it. today, and over the last few weeks as our 'yo-yo physics' unit has marched on, i've been able to witness more 'first sleepers', 'first braintwisters', and 'first knucklewhacks' than i could shake a stick at (i've even seen a few spectacular 'first eli hops' and 'first boingies'). when you're in such a position, getting to watch kids fumble through the process of learning to manage string tension and slip-knots... a certain degree of sentimental nostalgia is unavoidable. like it or not, you re-experience your own tentative missteps, and you laugh about how positively awkward you were... just before you realize how awkward you still ARE.

i'm an old man by yo-yo player standards, but i'm not so ancient that i can't remember learning the basics myself. every sleeper on my midnight special felt like a grandiose spectacle, capable of stopping traffic (though it never did). split the atom, i learned on a purple fireball in my college dorm, courtesy of ken's world on a string. i probably did that trick 500 times in 2 days, for (or maybe 'at') every human-person i ran into. i recall being so irritated at bee string that i wanted to return the $2.00 5-pack to toys r us because it kept kinking up... blissfully (or irately) unaware that my own winding technique and total lack of ufo/sidewinder know-how were responsible for the issue. these last weeks, watching some kids try to wrestle their new toy into submission while others found themselves able to handle it with a strange grace... all of these memories are made real again, and it's like looking through a fogged window at a guy i used to know.

i can do things now that would have blown that guy's mind. i've got tricks that are so outside the realm of what i once thought possible that i could make him quit altogether, tossing that fireball into a sewer or shattering that midnight special underfoot. i could make these kids today quit, too, if i comport myself with too much pride, or scoff at their first throws. sure that would sound like a dick move, but i see it on every playground i monitor and, sadly, at every contest i attend.

we've all got a bit of that destructive pride. it's a comfort to imagine that i've made some progress toward that sunset out there; that the horizon i'm chasing is somehow closer for all the knowledge and skill i think i've amassed. but walking around a globe, i'll never reach it; i'll just come back to the beginning. it's easy to feel some pity for said 'guy i used to know'; pity for his ignorance or for how many times his soft knuckles will redden learning lacerations on wood. but watching these kids, i remember that he doesn't need my pity. because it's been a joy. every throw. and considering that, i haven't really come so far at all. on my BEST days, i get to be that guy again.

it occurs to me that in 5 years of teaching yo-yo science, i've probably given away 300 yo-yo's. now i'll grant you that some of em were butterflies, but still... if one of those kids sees a yo-yo when they're 20 and vaguely connects it with some past experience... jeez, even if they don't, it's been well worth the while.

it's christmas-time. give somebody a yo-yo. someone who's never played. and in so doing, embrace your own beginnings, and recognize that (thank god), you're still that same person; beginning all the time.

yo-yo #83: SPYY ronin

one of the things that i like about being a yo-yoer is that it feels a bit like stepping into a stream. submerging your pinky toe, you're instantly connected to [essentially] all of the water, everywhere. likewise, the moment you tie on the slipknot and throw down, whether you recognize it or not, you renew your connection to every other yo-yo player in the world.

around 12:43p today, i twisted up a brand new type-10 cotton and threw a light session on my favorite new ronin. i'm not sure whether steve meant to send me this one as an anomaly, but it's almost hypnotic to behold, especially in the sunlight. it is the blackest blue yo-yo i've ever seen, if that makes any sense. maybe all of that colorway are like that; i dunno. but (speaking of water) it recalls the inky power of waves like cortés bank, which is doubly appropriate considering the graphics. (it's a good looking yo-yo - hey! you should buy it!)

in any case, throwing in my backyard this afternoon, 'vaguely warmed' by a pale november sun, i wondered what my friends were up to. maybe at 12:43, drew tetz was immortalizing audrey hepburn in a new picture trick. steve brown was probably hefting a kid (or two) on his shoulders. jon rob may have been deciding between hats, shoes, or combinations of both. guy said something about throwing no jives with spencer; i wonder if that went down. safe to say that seth was relentlessly pursuing some beautifully incredible concept (which i am not creative enough to visualize). sonny was probably engaged in mid-morning guinea pig frivolity, and it's a fair bet that john bot and abe were laughing hysterically someplace.

when i'm bummed about this or that, i sometimes think about disney world. i have a map of it next to my desk at school (where ironically, i have hardly been 'bummed' at all). i like the idea that between the berms of the magic kingdom, someone is always having the time of their life. even when the park is empty at 3am, it's like it's breathing in, its subterranean tunnels alive with janitors and technicians busying to prepare fresh magic for the morrow.

yo-yoing is kind of the same for me. it's not a place you can go, but somehow that makes it even more sacred. because yo-yoing is always 'there'. every day, we all go to its well to drink. we stand on its platform to express our most sincere selves, but also to learn and be humbled. we reinvent tiny aspects of the art, collectively and perpetually. every time we throw sleeper, someone is sharing our joy on the opposite side of the world. we're all bearing its standard, carrying it forward an inch at a time in whatever direction may occur to us. unless you turn your back on the art completely (and i've never heard a compelling reason for doing that), you always remain a yo-yo player. and our little tribe consists of some of the most 'improbably amazing' characters i've ever come across. to be associated with them (with you) through our mutual compulsion to throw is truly gratifying.

today i thought about all of the people who enjoyed their first successful 'gravity pull' today, maybe throwing at the same time as myself. i thought of all the kids who enthralled each other at playgrounds, or of the precious few who finally got a grown up to admit that 'you know, that actually IS pretty cool!' i considered all of the tricks that would be invented today, and was thrilled to have lent some tiny contribution. i thought about all of this stuff and i realized (once again) the hard-learned truth that the humble 2-ply string which connects us all is more significant than the space that divides us.

yo-yo #82: higby proyo 1

gracious, i am so busy. being a teacher is hard, existence-filling work. i love it, but teaching is not the kind of thing you can really step into 'slowly' or 'half-way' (at least if you aim to be decent at it). good teaching (like good yo-yoing) is about living moment after moment with abandon and getting soaked to the bone. i recognize that i haven't blogged much, and now that i'm back working regular, my rhythms probably won't change substantially.

to compound matters, my daughter is in her first play - a christmas carol. so there are now all kinds of rehearsals to accommodate (not to mention her fledgling tae kwon do career - yes, i'm thrilled she's into martial arts and there was NO pressure on my part, i can tell you). there was a parent meeting for the production the other day; sort of a last-minute 'you understand the insanity that you've signed up for' kind of thing. while waiting to get started, a parent asked me about 'the yo-yo virus' that has effectively permeated the halls at my school. wherever i teach, it's a foregone conclusion that the student body will collectively dive into mass yo-yo-hysteria by november (i'm not bragging - kids like yo-yo's and i am a 'dab hand' at them... it's natural). said parent was buying his kid 'a fifth yo-yo' and he wanted to know more about my involvement with such a weird, niche activity.

these conversations are always charged with the kind of curiosity that seems to beg (tacitly or overtly) for some kind of demonstration, so... whatever... i played some yo-yo for the guy (i threw this yo-yo, which i had in my pocket). i'm always interested by the 'art form' that these little mini-presentations represent. i'm pretty sure i could play yo-yo in front of the pope or chuck norris and not feel too bad about the actual tricks... the awkward part is what comes immediately after - and this is TOTALLY different when you're playing for a group of kids.

when you reveal your yo-yo powers to kids, they allow their jaws to drop. they allow themselves to believe that it's something magical. they allow themselves to 'want in' on it. by the time most people grow up, however, they have shed these wonderful abilities. whether impressed or not, most adults ask questions like 'how did you LEARN that?' and 'how many YEARS?' and 'how much FREE TIME?'. adults need (frequently, though not always) to distance themselves from the perspective of awe, which to many represents an inherently 'weak position'. by adulthood we have been rewarded by saving ourselves from momentary shock and by cloaking our wonder. however, those things always leak to the surface somehow.

the older we get, the more hesitant we are to be amazed. this is natural; we've seen a great deal, if not 'it all'. our brains' synaptic pathways have been firing since before our birth, and we have carved rutted channels that we know better than the back of our hands (or so well, we cannot KNOW them at all for they are HOW we know anything)... through the muddy prism of experience, it's a miracle that we can ever feel anything 'new'. wonder is such an amazing and mysterious thing; so rare and unsettling. looking back, how many ordinary moments can you recall from the last week (or year)... and yet you could probably write a list of the last 20 times you experienced real amazement. when we let ourselves dissolve into a moment that's complete and great, we hang on to it.

i like this yo-yo because it allows itself to straddle the line, and its creator personifies the dichotomy as well. if you've spent any time around john higby, you know that he loves yo-yoing deeply. though he's the consummate professional performer, you could TOTALLY see him ask a 12 year-old at a contest to teach him 'that last trick he did'. this yo-yo is beautiful, but it's not hard to approach. in a world of hard, metal yo-yo's built to resemble alien weaponry, this yo-yo still exudes joy, wonder, and innocence. it still feels like a toy.

every day, i get to talk to a kid (or 10) who comes in and tells me about the 'new trick' he made up... and it's elevator, or it's something like confederate flag, or it's braintwister IN REVERSE. and it doesn't matter that all of those things have been done by most every yo-yoer... they FOUND them on their own. they are 'bartholomew diaz' in a massive storm, driven on by curiosity and daring. they had to be shown at first, but if you have the capacity to give yourself over to wonder, no one can tell you that your efforts are misplaced or in vain.

with every new school i've joined, it's felt like a dry forest floor aching for fire. playing yo-yo is the sort of thing that everyone can do. it takes people out of their most elaborate imaginary-realities and gives an incentive to participate in the real one that is our birthright. kids are shocked to learn that 'hey, this IS something that i can be good at, and... somehow virtually NO ONE else here already is!' it makes me think of all the schools the world over that are just waiting for a lightning strike that ignites this dual-path toward fun and self-worth. it makes me proud of yo-yoing's history - i bet dale oliver and bob rule viewed the schoolyards in the towns they visited in the same way that greg noll viewed waimea bay.

we've all been those school-kids. in some respects, we're those school-kids every day. we wait patiently, diligently, to be amazed. we sit like spires of kindling awaiting a flame. we go to contests and seek out inspiration. we seek out videos and look for inspiration. we read half-baked blog posts and look for inspiration. whether we're learning our 1st trick or our 1,000th, all of us share the tendency to stand under the storm and believe for all we're worth that the 'bolt from the blue' is coming.

because it is... and it's not.

my friend tyler, an inspiration if ever there was one (though decidedly not a role model), turned me on to a great quote this week, by the painter chuck close:

“All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself. Things occur to you. If you’re sitting around trying to dream up a great art idea, you can sit there a long time before anything happens. But if you just get to work, something will occur to you and something else will occur to you and somthing else that you reject will push you in another direction. Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.”

the work, our work, is its own 'bolt from the blue'. as yo-yo players or as people, WE need to be the inspiration we wish to find in the world, and not by strutting grandly or playing in some special way... but just by 'getting to work'. a poet-friend of mine always said 'you want to be a writer? write.' there's nothing wrong with seeing a video or a freestyle that moves you, but don't con yourself into the belief that you're in an inescapable creative rut without those extrinsic catalysts. play yo-yo, bring something into being. the only thing that separates any of us from history's most creative, innovative yo-yoers, is that while we may wander around searching for inspiration or assume that it's 'coming any minute' from some great beyond... they're in a constant state of BECOMING it. they're deciding to manifest it, moment by moment.

it's sort of a paradox. we all have to be initiated. we all have to be bitten. but once we ARE, it's no longer anyone else's responsibility to be our inspiration. at some point we have to find the way to be our own.

to do so is certainly a skill, one toward which some have a more natural proclivity... but that state is within everyone's reach. i have to wonder whether the reason why more people don't see that; why (whether in our play or our everyday lives) we set up the dichotomy of 'that guy's incredible and i'll die mediocre'... is because like the adults i mentioned, we're a bit scared of amazing ourselves. we're unnerved by the idea of looking into ourselves and finding an unmeasured well of inspiration, because, i guess... 'what then?' (if there are no ceilings on our creative potential, then how much harder must we work to realize it?). or maybe we've so effectively conditioned ourselves to take our inadequacy for granted that the idea that we, ourselves could fuel our own fire seems slightly preposterous.

what if those conditioned responses could be reset? would that we whom life has taught to know better could be like the kids i teach; absolutely enamored, not of themselves, but of play, of what they're uncovering every other hour... of all that is possible and real and undiscovered.

yo-yo #81: 8-bit freehand

what are the limits of what you can own?

it's an interesting question to consider, given the current climate of the yo-yo world, which suddenly seems to pulsate with a toxic compound of indignation and confusion over 5a. duncan yo-yo's has stepped forward to exercise control over their 'possession', the freehand style of yo-yoing. while the quotes ARE meant to indicate my bewilderment at the idea that a STYLE of yo-yoing can be owned, steve brown's original patent does account both for the materials AND the technique. so if you're doing 5a (at least anywhere anyone can observe you)... i suppose the implication is that you're playing with duncan's toy, and depending upon their generosity in allowing you to do so.

yes, i think that's preposterous, but in legal terms, they do own and control the style of play. fortunately duncan (via my good friend brandon jackson) has stepped forward to say that they are NOT going to litigate against 'individual players', sponsored or otherwise, who just want to play or compete in freehand. the stickiness begins with their claim that they ARE going to be actively enforcing their patent against being used by rival companies. clearly, anyone who attempts to do the math recognizes the complete lack of clarity that this offers.

i'm an individual player, but i also have access to the spyy website. i have to think that if i tried to post a 5a video on there advertising the new stryker... duncan would not be cool with that, regardless of whether it was done with the 'intent' to advocate spyy for 5a. (this is just an assumption, but they certainly weren't 'cool' with yoyofactory's 5a may videos, which did more to promote and encourage 5a play than any company has in a solid while.) could an 'individual player' like andre boulay put 5a instructional videos on yoyoexpert.com? i mean it's an online store that sells duncans, but certainly everyone associates andre with yoyojam (plus they sell every other manufacturer as well). and then you have the issue with guys like miguel correa and tyler severance, both of whom are employees of yoyofactory and on anyone's short list for greatest 5a player of all time. would their continued contest performance or new trick videos constitute an advertisement for yoyofactory? and if prohibited from doing so, is there really a greater disservice that duncan could do to the style?

i have a headache.

i understand duncan's perspective. they HAVE this awesome thing, and nearly every other company has, in some way (purposely or accidentally, directly or implicitly) USED it to sell their yo-yo's. it's good business for duncan to say 'OI! only WE get to use our stuff to sell yo-yo's!' if they don't do that, they effectively sacrifice their ownership of the patent. at the same time, however, to begin to enforce their possession of the style immediately vilifies them in the eyes of many. i think most yo-yo players want to see all of the best players throw 5a without fear. i think we'd like to see all companies be able to celebrate it - to benefit from it AND give to it. but such an idealized view does not feel very realistic right now.

scenarios like this are amusing to watch unfold, if only because they polarize the community so sharply. we dilligently heed drama's clarion call and file into our respective positions:
• 'throw duncan!': "it's not duncan's fault, guys! they own 5a and have the right to protect it!" (this view, while initially valid and interesting, is quickly delegitimized by the guys who use it as one more soapbox in their attempt to denounce "those copycats" yoyofactory the loudest).
• 'duncan = suck!': "whether they want to or not, this is going to kill 5a! DON'T TREAD ON ME, DUNCAN!!!" (again, lots of good points to be heard, but they're muffled by the furious knee-jerk yells of misinformed bandwagon-jumpers.)
• 'who even cares?'

i like duncan, or at least the idea of duncan. i like their plastic yo-yo's, a lot of em. i adore its history, and standing on stage with bob rule, dale oliver, and chris neff at worlds was an absolute honor. i certainly love my friends, brandon and drew and takeshi and hank and jack and nate and dimi and jeff... and look up to guys like senba and kohta to the extent that i could barely introduce myself at worlds through stammers and blushes... but those guys aren't duncan, or at least not all of it. for me, the 'warts & all' has to include the cease & desist letters sent out by a faceless legal dept to anyone who maintained a site using the words 'imperial' and 'butterfly'... or to chris allen, who tried to use an iconic 'yoyoman' image on his then-fledgling yoyoskills. it has to include the tumult and uproar with which my friend steve left the company, and his description of his treatment by the brass. it has to include perplexing, alienating stuff like this, with the result that i like the company... but find it hard not to hate the COMPANY.

personally, i'm not really a 5a player. i mean i enjoy it, but i'm not out there coming out with new stuff (at least not new stuff that isn't stupid). the north carolinian in me certainly objects to being reminded that a style of yoyoing i enjoy is OWNED by a bunch of suits. i highly doubt that any of the flambeau legal a-team will parachute into my yo-yo club or break up my corner-store shows to serve me with papers. that's not really the point. even though duncan's intentions could be seen as in the interest of self-preservation... it still leaves ordinary yo-yoers hurt and confused to be effectively told that '5a doesn't belong to you.' and the pain and confusion may be compounded if, as the smoke clears, our most dominant and creative 5a demi-gods are no longer able to express themselves 'freely'.

that reminds me of a quote i recently reread. it's from the yoyoguy forum way back in 99, when steve brown had only just revealed his new discovery. it was being suggested that he patent 5a, and his response was as follows.

For me to patent a style of yo-yo play would be silly. First off, that would assume that I had the money for the patent in the first place. Second, that would assume I was making enough money off the patent to be able to defend it. And third, I am not really big on all that lawsuit crap. It's what killed Duncan in the 60's, I see no reason to be part of THAT tradition. It's FreeHand, and it's free. If you want it, take it. Just let it be known that I found it, that's all I ask. (Please note that I take no credit for CREATING it....it already existed, I just found it. Yo-Yo tricks cannot be created or destroyed....much like matter.)

how ironic that, given these sentiments, all of this has come to pass. it WAS patented, and the patent was sold to duncan for royalties (duncan, which surely DOES have the money to be able to defend it)... and now until the big d steps forward to offer some concrete standards for what will and will not be tolerated, the perception that said patent is being held over the heads of companies (and by proxy, yo-yo players) is likely to hold. ... 'FreeHand' indeed... funny old world.

anyways, i don't want to give the impression that i'm too butthurt about it, or that i don't think duncan has a point in trying to protect their property. i think, i (like most every yo-yoer) just want to see how things will shake out. it's a very cloudy business trying to maintain control of a style that has always prided itself on free expression. it's also tough to overcome inertia, and part of me will be surprised if 5a truly sustains any damage over this. of all the play styles, freehand feels the most irrepressible and resilient. the style is like a constantly-evolving organism. the materials may be owned, the 'technique' or 'idea' may be owned, but how do you own something that is as alive as all the players who have breathed fire into it this past decade? it belongs to duncan... but it cannot belong to duncan more than it belongs to yo-yoers.

for my part, i just threw some of my [embarrassingly poor] freehand a minute ago, and think i may do so again momentarily. i must admit that did not use this 8-bit freehand (or any duncan), which is a solid, wonderful player that has never let me down. i did so to remind myself that no matter how the winds of the yo-yo world may howl (and they don't howl so loud when you think about it), and no matter what page 37, paragraph 3, item xiv may say... my yo-yoing always, always belongs to me... yes it does.

... yes it does.



edit: this release was just put out by duncan, and seeing as they did exactly as so many in the community have clamored for (in responding clearly and directly), i wanted to revisit this and share my reaction. click if you like.

yo-yo #80: OLD filligree mandala

the other day, my good friend (and yo-yo superstar) jensen kimmett, showed me a video of a pair of bearded brothers from new york who run a chocolate business. now, i love chocolate, and it must be understood that they probably could have talked about anything... or even just hooted and grunted... and i still would have enjoyed the piece. however, jensen introduced the vid by suggesting that these guys are 'the CLYW of chocolate makers', so naturally i paid special attention to their approach to chocolate so as to discern his meaning. and i'm glad i did.

to save you from the need to watch the video (which i think you should, because it's neat)... the mast brothers don't just make as much chocolate as they can and get it into every big-box store possible. rather they take pride in making a little delicious and unique chocolate agonizingly slowly with care, they select the best cacao beans and painstakingly wrap the bars they make in thick, artfully decorated butcher paper. they're even planning a sailing trip across the atlantic to scout out new sources of the precious beans. the way they view chocolate is refreshing. they see it as a CRAFT; as a worthy expenditure of their time and energy... as a lifelong challenge.

it got me thinking about the make-up of our yo-yo world. i'm proud to be a yo-yoer for many reasons. however, i think that one of the most clear of these is the dedication to 'the craft'. we live in an age where 'craft' has become an anomaly. just a few generations ago, whatever devices upon which you relied upon, you needed to thoroughly understand so as to keep them working. the lakota on the prairie HAD to understand the crafts associated with turning a living, breathing bison into tools, shelter, and food... or else he had none. the 18th century blacksmith worked long hours over a sweltering furnace, handling rough tools from which most modern hands would shrink... not just to express his artistic spirit, but to provide for himself, his family, and his village. understanding one's craft was, until very recently, essential for any productive member of a society.

i think that, in this world of decadent convenience wherein we find ourselves, yo-yo players and makers feast upon our respective crafts, self-indulgent though they may be. you do not truly need to master a craft today to get along. in fact, devoid of incentive or clear reward, most people don't. you can spend your day in a cubicle selling policies you barely understand, pick up kfc on the drive home, fill your car up with gas that 'magically' pours from the pump, and fall asleep watching television in air-conditioned comfort... and society will tell you that you're 'doing well for yourself'. (consider, i don't intend to berate people who choose to live their lives in such a way - just to intimate that you don't need to 'do' or 'make' much today to be 'a success'.)

in part BECAUSE of this truth, we are entering into an age where one's craft holds a new and invigorating value. in a society where it's not 'necessary', taking something seriously and putting the full measure of one's energy to it reveals a quality of thoughtfulness and patience that can seem alarmingly outmoded. perhaps BECAUSE we have dissociated ourselves from 'where our things com from', well-made, hand-crafted objects are now enjoying a renaissance. selvedge denim, fitted wool caps, artisan beers, 'crafted' chocolate... it feels somehow edgy and rebellious to dedicate one's self to a craft. and in this age of brilliant machinery, it's exciting to handle a thing made with real, human care.

this example of the beloved no jive 3-in-1 is the 'filligree' mandala. though i don't have exact dates, it was made at some point in the 80's, features the standard 'take-apart' construction that was introduced by the model, and is probably the most stunningly engraved yo-yo i've ever seen (the more modern version of the same engraving hardly even looks like the same model). i prefer a yo-yo like this one because you can really see what went into it. this particular model is made of beautiful, aged hard rock maple. although beaten to a pulp by unforgiving years, it still spins beautifully, and the care, depth, and precision of the engraving makes it a true heirloom (to me). the hex nut has been overtightened a bit (something i know how to fix), and it could use some tuning. but then, so could we all. it certainly isn't a perfect throw. any genesis-armed teenager at a contest would probably scoff at this old woody's vibe following 'the fingernail test'. like any take apart wood yo-yo, you have to blend with it, find the sweet spot, accept its flaws (as you do your own). and like any fixed axle, it's not going to allow you the luxury of time in executing your tricks. you've got now - best to use it.

in a world that values function over form, it's an anomaly. but like the mast brothers' chocolate, this kind of yo-yo isn't necessarily meant to be 'a consistent' product. in fact, in some respects, it's meant to be the opposite, since the medium is inherently inconsistent. this, however, brings into relief its authenticity. this toy was turned back when tom ran the old san francisco workshop. he did it not for wealth or glory but for the simple love of the craft, and of yo-yoing. that truth alone makes a yo-yo like this a legitimate joy to play. when you care about a thing enough to inject your own meaning into your craft, you give something great and intangible to it; you soak it with an energy that does not dissipate with dings or chips or rotten days. i won't call it 'soul', which players love to attribute to their favorite throws... but it can make YOUR soul to want to burst from its shell while playing it.

though tom no longer makes new yo-yo's, we're truly blessed to be part of a micro-community that still brims with this attitude. a look at virtually all of the smaller manufacturers right now reveals a set of truly dedicated craftsmen, each ready and willing to put something of themselves into the beautiful toys they make for us. while not all hand-turned, the degree of attention put into planning, machining, and testing these yo-yo's will ensure that they're remembered as the heirlooms of tomorrow. support them and say thanks.

yo-yo #79: hspin good & evil 2: poison

here's a yo-yo - a good & evil 2: poison. i've always liked this yo-yo.

ok, now that we've got THAT out of the way... i'm always intrigued by others' motivations for playing yo-yo. i'm big on the idea of awareness, and performing a sort of ongoing, live mental-autopsy on myself has become an ingrained habit. i've got a lot of 'extrinsic' reasons to yo-yo:

• i get a lot of attention (way more than i feel i deserve, actually).
• it's kind of offbeat and interesting; people like asking about it in line for coffee or what-have-you.
• kids love it.
• i can do it 'better' than other people.
• i can acquire lots of shiny things.

by and large... all of those reasons stink for me. momentarily comforting though they may be, i see gaping holes in all of them. if, on the path of yo, you use some combination of those as your 'compass', i think you'll get lost and get really, really tired of it. now, you may not see it that way, and i actually do appreciate that. i recognize that i don't speak for anyone else and i don't mean to preach... but i mean... you know me; i am anyway. (and i'll probably use too many semi-colons in the process.)

as awful and incomplete as i find those 'most apparent' reasons to play, i actually do see a number of reasons that ARE valid, and i aim to concentrate on those for a minute. being a yo-yoer IS awesome and worthwhile, and when i try to break it down (which is itself, a difficult and possibly counter-productive task), i come up with the following reasons to supplant those previously mentioned.

• the players: yo-yoers represent a really interesting cross-section of world culture. and while you get people from all kinds of backgrounds and with all sorts of differences, their passion for this ultra-specific mode of expression is a common thread (so to speak). over time, i've developed friendships with a lot of the perceived 'elite' yo-yo players (no, that is not meant to signify 'elitist'), and by and large, it's just fascinating how fully their talents permeate their personalities. most awesome yo-yoers aren't just awesome yo-yoers; they're multi-faceted people - artists, musicians, incredible dads, athletes, aesthetes, philosophers, designers... yo-yoing is something they happen to share, but expression just seems to leak (or blast) out of their every creative outlet. when yo-yoing is just one aspect of a person's makeup, it's so much easier to prevent burnout. i think the 'creative drive' is what i tend to find so compelling about 'yo-yo people' (more so than the yo-yoing). understand, i don't view yo-yoers as a reason to yo-yo in terms of some facebookian attitude of 'friend collecting'; rather the people can help you to view YOURSELF as the multi-faceted individual you are, and as a creative force. when you decide to place yourself not OVER other yo-yoers, but rather AMONG them, they possess the capacity to make you better, as a player and as a person.

• the tricks: i can absolutely lose my self in the tricks. note the "_" between my and self. when i'm throwing yo-yo, and really putting my energy into it, all of the interlocking preferences that i build my self into on any given day just tumble to the ground like misplayed jenga blocks. i don't care how my hair looks. i don't worry about being able to afford the new kicks i think i want. i don't t fuss about that co-worker who grates on me like a medieval hairshirt. i. just. throw. everyone needs something like that. it's available in virtually every pursuit - i just find it in yo-yo tricks. you need to find solace from your self ('a vacation from your problems', to quote 'what about bob'). it's no wonder at all that people who play yo-yo 'compulsively' and worry about 'the quality' of their play get really tired of it. they're allowing their selves (needs, wants, and haves) to keep bashing away at them as they play. maybe those folks should try knitting (i mean that seriously, with absolutely no offense intended).

• it's hard: it's supposed to be. while i wouldn't advocate for yo-yoing as a manifestation of roosevelt's ideal of 'the strenuous life' (hi, artofmanilness.com)... it's good to do things that you find difficult. yo-yoing revolves around the concept of overcoming difficulty. i CAN understand this hold. i WILL hit this trick. i AM going to learn two-handed loops. embracing yo-yoing means embracing that which you cannot yet do, which causes you to recognize your own weakness and inferiority. that realization only punishes those who would otherwise believe that they are great and strong. for a mature person, the recognition of our travails and ineptitude becomes fuel for growth. you don't just do it to collect and acquire tricks and paint them like little bombs onto the fuselage of your life. you do it to discover what you're made out of.

• it happens everywhere: sometimes i refer to my yo-yo as 'a temple in my pocket'. by that i mean you have access to the best part of yourself... always. a professional baseball player only gets to really, truly manifest his art and science on game day (and he needs a ball and bat, 9 friends and a big open field to do it). a great surfer needs a decent wave and a board (the former being frustratingly few and far between). you need virtually nothing to access your self while yo-yoing. a finger. a string. a yo-yo... maybe a pocket would be a nice. people gripe a lot about how much yo-yo x or y cost, but in comparison with essentially ANY OTHER HOBBY, yo-yoing remains delightfully accessible (particularly in the modern era where a cheap yo-yo can still do essentially everything). you don't even have to give anything else up; in fact you shouldn't! one of the best aspects of yo-yoing is its capacity for 'cross-pollination'. i imagine that the fact that the most incredible exponents of the art are also great at other endeavors is no coincidence. being a great painter HELPS you to be a more complete yo-yoer. understanding the rhythm of music HELPS you to understand the rhythm of a trick. it's not required that go off and live in monklike isolation working on yo-yoing all day long. not only will you burn out; you will suffer a worse artistic death - your yo-yoing will stagnate like some hidden, uninhabitable sulfuric pool.

• there is no finish line: you will never know everything. you will never be able to do every trick. you will die ignorant. embrace this. CELEBRATE IT, because it represents your most basic essence; the pulp of your humanity. not only is there always something new to try (some trick, some style, some variation)... it's always as evident and close-by as the next minor mistake. my wife says that 'boring people get bored', and it applies well to yo-yoing. if you can't see where to take your yo-yoing next, then you need to step back. our lives amount to picking a direction and walking in it. we have to choose, and our choice dictates the conditions of the next set of choices. make a choice and get walking.

we're people, and every person is out to 'get something'. if you've spent years forging yourself into a dominant yo-yo player (or a dominant forum entity), some part of you expects to 'get something' for your efforts (yes it does, liar, don't deny it). but whatever you think it will get you... pales in comparison with what you get if you find a way THROUGH that acquisitive spirit. to re-phrase: in letting go of trying to 'get something', you actually get something more valuable. your yo-yoing is suddenly 'on your side', and you don't need to fight with it. you don't need to slog your way through tricks so you can finally pass 'expert' and work on 'master'. you don't need to grope at people and convince them to subscribe to your youtube or mention you in the 5-daily 'favorite player' threads that constantly illuminate the boards. you don't need to worry about what you've got (respect, toys, attention, skills) - cause you've got all you need.

the [near-impossibly idealized] trade-off is... you have to recognize that in truth, you are a very small thing; at most a particle of yo-yoing (and of the world). you have to let go of the attention and praise (or lack thereof). you have to perceive that while your yo-yoing can reflect all that you perceive, it's not the only mode of expression available to you, and that obsessive overuse can lead to artistic ruin. you have to relinquish your grasp on all of the accoutrements and trappings that we HANG on yo-yoing, and become secure in the faith that just playing as you do and progressing as you can... is substantial and meaningful. (yeah, good luck with all that - to me as well.)

in the words of the immortal bard (by which i mean anthony kiedis), 'give it away, give it away, give it away, give it away now... i can't tell if i'm a kingpin or a pauper.'

yo-yo # 78: team losi cherry bomb

i intended to write about something that i've since forgotten about. that's the kind of thing that happens when you strike yourself about the head with blunt objects.

not a yo-yo this time, actually. i AM getting used to my new loop 900's, but so far i haven't slammed myself with those. i've punched myself in the nog with pretty much every manner of yo-yo. probably the worst 'kablam' i've taken came at the hands of a galactic goose while filming some lame trick to show to drew and seth. that noise still haunts my dreams. i actually don't hit myself with loopers too much, and when i do - well, it's not like they've got a lot of mass. alas, no, tonight's round of self-inflicted trauma was performed with a sword... fortunately (for me) it was a wooden one.

when everybody goes to sleep around here (especially in the summer), i like to go outside to my 'dojo' under the oaks and work out a bit. back when stacy was in residency, she worked regular 30-hour shifts, so every other day, i didn't see her, and when i did she was too exhausted to do much more than ingest a few bites of rice krispies before passing out. in those days, with a three year-old daughter, i rarely made it out to my dojo, so the backyard became one. though our quality of life is exponentially improved now, training out back is a tradition that is too ingrained to neglect.

when i was little, i was afraid of the dark. i remember being terrified, not of grotesque monsters or nightmares... but of the dark itself, and its capacity to produce any sort of terror. i now understand that i was also afraid of the quiet, and of the fact that when enclosed within the night's silent blanket, you are utterly alone... with yourself. over the years, i have conscientiously flooded those fears by learning to sleep outdoors, by sitting outside in total, unforgiving blackness, and to some extent, by these rounds of 'night training'. if you're going to root out the splinter of your selfishness, you're going to have to spend a lot of energy exploring your fears. i'm working on it.

there is something almost narcotic about training alone at night, especially with a weapon like a sword, which is such an anachronism with regard to modern life. alone with myself (not unlike a child in bed) i find myself confronted with ideas with which i'm not always comfortable. like yo-yoing, it's become a way for me to communicate with myself, and once you've had some measure of that, the pull to continue is irresistible. i'm sure it's the same with runners, or people who paint those little metal soldiers, or what-have-you.

so tonight, i was performing a few basic sword katas from aikido, and probably pretty badly. my mind was jumping all over the place. i think i was vaguely imagining some romantic visage of some of the old aikido masters whom i hold in highest regard, performing these same kata on their own, refining their respective spirits (just like me, right?). and finally, in a moment of precient, merciful serendipity, i imagined that i shared a secret with those great masters: that out here, cutting through the night with a sword, there is clearly more to life than the mundane...

it was at that precise moment that my left hand slipped from the hilt of my bokken, the released pressure causing the back of the blade to swing around and nail me right above the left eye. it didn't hurt. i wasn't cut or anything... but the blow to my pride felt momentarily significant. there i was, acting like i had something in common with these 'great masters', when i obviously can't even handle the damn sword properly. what a doofus!

but in the next moment, it occurred to me that the blunder had nothing to do with my left hand, but with my state of mind. what sets the 'masters' apart, in every discipline, is focus. we say 'kime' in aikido (though i have no idea what that actually translates to); the concentration of the mind on the task at hand. sometimes it's wielding a sword. sometimes it's slicing zucchini. sometimes it's playing with a silly little spinning toy. my problem was that my mind was on other people, doing other things, outside of my control or influence... and i got whacked on the head for it. i'm thankful, because if i hadn't, i might have kept training with that mindset, which would have been a waste of a beautiful summer night...

i was swinging this oak sword around, with the implied idea that the night was somehow something MORE than what it was; MORE than life itself. but there is nothing more than life itself... or at least, nothing that i get to understand here and now. 'the fire cannot see the ashes,' as they say. the fleeting idea that there should be something 'beyond' the mundane betrays what an absolute beginner i am at life. in truth, the only thing that sets any 'master' apart as 'great' is his or her utter devotion TO the mundane. when you're holding a sword, don't ponder the mysteries of the universe... JUST HOLD THE FRICKIN' SWORD!

it's the exact same thing with yo-yo. how many thousands of times have i been 'idly' playing, my mind bouncing between faraway thoughts like a hyperactive cricket, only to pull into a glorious snag, yanking the yo-yo back prematurely into my knuckles? it happens especially often with a yo-yo like this: the team losi cherry bomb.

the brainchild of yo-yo renaissance guy, steve brown, the cherry bomb was the 2nd ball bearing yo-yo i ever played (after the raider). my girlfriend's little brother (now my brother-in-law) bought one at toys r us and showed it off. i immediately hated it, but only out of envy. it was way cooler looking than the raider. by that point though, i hadn't caught on to the whole 'butterfly shape' thing, as it would interfere with my mediocre loops. the losi line were among the first to feature an adjustable gap (albeit, it was only adjustable due to a pair of o-rings in the guts (a la the fast 201). still, it worked pretty well, and the cherry bomb allowed a level of string play for which i was not-yet ready.

the thing about c-bombs is that they break in pretty quick (way more so than the renegades which supplanted them as the dominant tool for y2k string-trickery). until they do, however, they will punish your knuckles like ruler-swinging nuns on a pack of truant, angus-young-clad schoolboys. for the first few days (or forever if you keep the gap small), EVERY TRICK requires your immediate attention, and the yo-yo is totally prepared to chastize you should you not comply. after awhile, the c-bomb feels kinda like a pet doberman. sure it could snap at you, but you've kind of learned that for the pair of you to get along... you just need to present and attentive. most yo-yo's out there today are nothing like that. for the most part, there is no break-in period. there is no punishment. we've grown to like our yo-yo's soft and cuddly and forgiving. i'm not saying it's a bad thing - but the lessons of the cherry bomb are lost on many.

is that a bad thing? are those lessons still relevant? i think they are. learning to play yo-yo with focus and care changes the way you approach all yo-yo's. when i'm throwing my shiny new, massive-gapped pro, it's easy to hit obscure, experimental, multi-layered tricks... but it's also easy to 'look away'; to go through the motions and play with a perfunctory, half-absent attitude. i know i'll hit the trick. there are no consequences, or even much in the way of communication between the thrower and 'the thrown'. throwing the same tricks on a cherry bomb is different. even if i'm absolutely present, the wind might blow funny and everything might snag into delicious oblivion. the trick is fragile; in perpetual jeopardy... not unlike life (though we trick ourselves into believing otherwise).

if you're going to play, play utterly. completely. totally. as though the string is the only thing separating heaven and earth. withhold absolutely no measure of yourself and your joy... and maybe in equal part, your pain. don't fuss about what it means or symbolizes. it means you playing with a yo-yo, and that's all. the nearly impossible task; the challenge for a lifetime... is recognizing that that right there is PLENTY. that the mundane IS the mystery of the universe.

people talk about how yo-yoing is meditative, and i guess it can be. but i think you have to be careful with the words you choose. personally, i never want yo-yoing to be transcendental. i never want yo-yoing to represent an 'escape'. for me, it's just about playing with 'the truth of the moment', which is at once a very light-hearted and yet absolutely serious thing. the universe is transient. i know i only have so many breaths and i may be one poorly-considered left-turn away from the last of them... if i'm going to use one of those moments yo-yoing? best believe i want to put everything i have behind it, and that includes not only my high-powered equipment and muscle memory (hi k-strass)... but also, most critically, my focus.

in today's world, you can buy the app, and then... you have it. you can refer to it whenever you need to make that perfect carbonara or check the map of reykjavik (i spelled that right first try!). but there is no app for real understanding. there is no app for kime. people are so used to the rhythm of 'buying and having', they want to say 'i understood once, so i understand now,' but it doesn't work like that. you have to keep trying to understand; keep bringing the world into focus; keep feeling the simple magnitude of the simple, the trivial, the everyday. it's not just in the great and romantic moments where we design our character... it happens as we brush our teeth or take out the garbage. the power and meaning of yo-yoing are not only available in the moment when we finally hit that elusive trick or win worlds... but also in all of the misses and tangles and string-burnt snap-starts that tie our tiny glories together. you have to keep inventing your understanding in every throw. the beauty is... you'll never run out.

yo-yo #77: raw bc blank

it occurs to me that i'm of the last generation of yo-yoer's who learned to throw during a time when transaxles and ball bearings were not widely available. although, somewhat ironically, my first yo-yo was a yomega brain, i traded it away for what was essentially a glorified imperial. fixed axle yo-yoing was just 'yo-yoing' in the 1980's, and for most of the 90's. and while i wasn't a 'serious' player by any stretch (and thank god for that as a child), i think you never really get away from how you defined yo-yoing when you were first exposed to it. my old teacher, the composer thomas oboe lee, once told me that as you 'grow up', you begin to take the greatest delight in the music you heard as a child - that's 'what music is' to you, and you come back to it.

this yo-yo was given to me by matt carter. when i first became aware of the online community, matt was already an established 'yo-yo artisan' with his own aesthetic-mod forum at dave's skill toys. at the time i was much more concerned with function than with form, and i largely ignored his corner, though i'd been regularly impressed by his work.

i got to meet matt at ma states this year, and even played one of his 'crow'd fusions', which i found gratifyingly similar to the flying v in play. although it was not clear to me before this year, matt is hardcore about his wood yo-yo's. i figured he'd dig no jives, seeing as he designed the graphics for at least 3 of the 'modern mandalas', but throwing wood really is his bag. we're kindred spirits in the 'school of lo-fi'.

he handed me this yo-yo at the contest and asked me to throw it around. it's a late 90's blank from the workshop of brad countryman, purveyor of the hummingbird and bc lines, and later tom kuhn yo-yo's. while the bc-era no jives are generally seen as being slightly inferior to those of the san francisco days, he's always had the fixed gap, glued-construction woody completely dialed. this example being no exception, it slid along on the string like molten butter on glass, and i was surprised when matt told me that he, himself had put it together from the parts.

though i protested for a second (or maybe just pretended to), he bade me keep it; to finish it up on my own - paint it or carve it. i've actually left it alone, owing to my sense that i really couldn't add to its simple perfection in any constructive way. he actually gave me another, in parts, to assemble and finish on my own. for whatever reason, it's still in pieces in a cloth bag... perhaps because this one plays so well.

yesterday, i was talking to my friend drew. as usual, we were discussing one thing, and gradually, like some heliocentric plant, our discussion naturally bent toward yo-yoing. drew's planning on buying a longboard, and we were discussing different models. i've frequently highlighted the distinctions between ball bearing and wood axle yo-yo's, and how they compare with other tools of 'dynamic art'. electric vs. acoustic guitars, new school vs. retro surfboards... standard 'trick' skateboards vs. longboards. in each case, the exponents of the former tend to focus on 'results' (fast, progressive shredding, 'destroying the wave', tré flips to smith grinds) while the latter tend to emphasize an attitude of 'cruising'. certainly there are people who attack an acoustic guitar with blindingly fast arpeggios, and i'm not gonna lie - i could hit some pretty complicated tricks on this yo-yo... but i'm not INCLINED to. and i like that i'm not.

as i told drew (and as egomaniacal as it feels typing this), i'd like to develop myself in to the 'gerry lopez' of yo-yoing; and not (please understand) in terms of recognition. it's true that as a surfer, lopez was unmatched, known as 'mr. pipeline' throughout the 70's. he cultivated a tremendous style that became immediately recognizable on any wave. what i find far more impressive, however, is the fact that he has aged with absolute grace. by his own admission, he can't go out and surf pipe at 62 the way he did when he was younger, or the way the young lions attack it now. but he continues to surf, with dignity and elegance, and he seems to treat every wave like it's a gift - which of course, it is. though he was once one of the most celebrated surfers of his era, he's absolutely the kind of guy you can imagine standing waist deep in the shorebreak, pushing some kid into his first wave... without even telling him his name. unlike gerry, my name really IS irrelevant, but i still want to 'be that guy'.

this is the kind of yo-yo i'd like to throw as i grow old (should i be so lucky). i once heard a compelling comparison between psychoanalysis and art. both are designed to explore the inner intricacies and compulsions of the human mind. what divides the two, however, is what's done with the discoveries. when psychoanalysis arrives at a discovery, it holds on to it, applying the truth to one's life and actions and attitudes. when art makes a discovery, it lets the discovery go. when an artist tries to rehash the same idea again and again without moving forward, the result tends to feel unnatural; forced, obscene, stagnant. art's got to be allowed to move on. i don't see myself as old, but i'm acutely aware of the direction in which my yo-yoing is headed. where a couple years ago coming up with a complicated combo would feel fulfilling to me, now i'm more interested in being aware of how a yo-yo feels at it spins, or in the 'thwack' of the wood as it connects with my palm. it's not a lot... just everything.

i don't really believe in the idea of 'transcendence' (at least in terms of moving 'beyond' this moment or place)... but i like the idea of growing past the compulsion to 'do tricks'; at least the fancy ones. i love watching the insanity my friends come up with on a yo-yo, but the older i get, the more the ideal of 'complexity' seems to shrink off into the horizon. when i'm old, i'd like to be the 'archetypical old guy', shooting the moon in the park, approached by some kid who aims to show me up with his new-fangled toy and new-fangled skill... i'd like to be secure enough to let him. a heavily idealized image, to be sure, but it reflects my desire to 'move on toward simplicity'.

i'd like to find the way to apply gerry lopez's 'soul arch' to yo-yoing, and to let that be enough.
because it really is.

yo-yo #76: 'tomoe'

the toy spins
licked by the fire of innocent skin
its whisper-whir breathes
with the hum of free dragonflies
its coils caress
the memory of all summers
intimacies of wood and twine-
young things twirl while
old things remember
drunk in the perfume-haze
of unlocking july
our boy assumes the stars
will turn for him, for ever

but years protrude
like brambles, bloodsharp
as by demons coaxed
from calloused earth
hard work to buy the ground
and hard tools to work it
so joy-like pus
oozes now from drycracked hands
cherished toys are hawked or locked
into dust-colored boxes
there was no then, it seems
and tomorrow is today plus
one more little death
space-dreams and useless loves
must go to seed

with the insignificance and fury
of sodacan explosions
boys die boys-
and fool-men pray on gravel-knees
toward wealthy gods
and candy whores
the wheels of want
turn too, but with an angry noise
all walls and teeth
the song of iron
makes real the sin and stutter of alive
the last electric ghost of childhood
is drowned beneath boot-rhythms
there is no twine which will not rot
there are no toys in hell

all fallendown his warm
blood now imbibed by foreign grass
no boys are left
to whom he might bequeath a box
the artifacts of a september breeze
a ticket stub, now leathersoft
a ribbon soaked with brown-hair smell
a photograph of smilelines and trees
a spinning top (which seemed to breathe
one afternoon
before the water stank with hate)
the world ago
all lost and scattered
waspwings crushed by winter

every thing waits
the air inhales-

-then nervous bird hands
black with pain, white with hunger
past an inch of worms and dreams
explore the soil of tragic lands
find now the so-neglected
toy all mangle-stained
with dirt and days etched deep
with writhing scars-
and tiny joys
all still caressed (they do not fade)
the tapestries of innocence
the shadows of a hopeful heart

mend now the broken world, our girl
please spin (again) the stars

yo-yo #'s 74 & 75: sleep machines

in 1992, when the sleep machine was first launched by tom kuhn's small san fransisco yo-yo workshop, i was still a kid. i was a huge fan of the sf giants (and specifically of will clark, having collected over 300 of his baseball cards). it was a time when you could get away with wearing wind-pants (or worse, Zubas©) to school, when you had to wait until saturday morning for 'good' cartoons, and when toys still felt like toys.

the 2nd production ball bearing yo-yo, the sleep machine (and its imperial-shaped counterpart, the roller woody) was an anomaly from its conception. it's fascinating to consider the yo-yo landscape of that era. the silver bullet and sb-2 were the only aluminum models. with the exception of the yomega brain (and fireball?), there were no plastic transaxles to be had. it was an era when every good yo-yo player out there still relied on a wooden, fixed axle models, not to be stoic, but because they were the best tools available. even the sb-2 was perceived by the elite as a bizarre novelty and mediocre player (on account of its inconsistent looping ability and slippy response).

tom kuhn created the sleep machine and roller woody in order to bring performance 'guts' into a more acceptable wooden 'package'. while it features the same axle and [brilliant] gap adjustment tool as the sb-2, its maple body is extremely delicate and prone to cracking when overtightened. the bearing is tiny by comparison with today's models (which would have seemed ridiculously gargantuan 18 years ago), but amazingly, a stock sleep machine can handle pretty much anything you want to throw at it. they featured linen 'turbo discs', which were the first friction stickers, as the bearing necessitated some means to compensate with the lack of response (the yo-yo actually comes complete with instructions for double looping the string... pad printed on its inner walls!)

yesterday, i read a question posed to the boards that i've considered many times: 'are ball bearings cheating?'

this question has been debated so hotly over the years of internet-yoyo-blathering that i find it remarkable whenever i read it, as if we should have reached some consensus and moved on. some of the first posts on the oldest yo-yo forum, yoyoing.com/news, are dedicated to the argument that the only 'real' yo-yoing is fixed axle yo-yoing.

i no longer believe that (i did once), and i doubt the original participants do either. i learned trapeze on an old fixed axle (again, not because i was hardcore, but because it was all i had), and i remember at the time feeling as though the idea of going 'beyond' the technicality of that trick would have amounted to a pipe-dream with extra grandeur. the first time i threw a raider (see below), i easily doubled my longest sleeper ever. a few throws later i tried my hardest trick, braintwister, and i think i did about 8 revolutions (having never done more than 1), laughing with my head thrown back as though riding a convertible on the autobahn.

after those initial tricks, i felt a little dirty. i felt like i was playing contra, having already punched in the konami code. i knew i didn't 'deserve' a minute-long sleeper or the ability to pause 10 seconds just to 'admire' trapeze. these new-found powers had been paid for by technological ideas not-my-own... but the question of 'just how far can i take this?' is a seductive temptress... and it should be.

besides, who am i cheating? 90% of the time, when i'm yo-yoing, it's just me and the yo-yo. am i cheating the yo-yo? i don't think it cares, or at least, it's never spoken up. am i cheating myself? even if i grind harder than ever to push the range of what i can do with a bearing? can a person who works at yo-yoing for 8 hours a day be cheating, regardless of the materials they use? there's no one else to cheat. i've never really been a competitive player, and even if i were, from as far back as 1995 on, transaxle players were prevented from playing in the same division as fixed axle players. in the aforementioned conversation, kyle weems said 'cheating implies that you have an unfair advantage'... so if there's no implied advantage?

the question is not really whether or not ball bearings are 'cheating', but rather whether or not they are 'destructive'. certainly they have catalyzed a dramatic mutation in the way we approach our play. if you took your yo-yo back in time 40 years, it would probably be only vaguely understood as yo-yoing at all. if those changes are understood to be 'bad', then ball bearings have pulled us in a negative direction (or rather, we have allowed them to).

ball bearings have allowed yo-yoers to go from zero to sixty in an instant (both literally and figuratively). i read another post the other day, asking for how long people had played. inevitably, the responses (most of which betrayed obvious youth) were along the lines of 'eight months - i'm on master.' don't get me wrong - i appreciate the importance of BELIEVING yourself to be approaching mastery, and the tendency to do so while growing up. investing in such a belief, however, which ball bearing yo-yo's allow for... could be seen as a means of cheating oneself, and the inevitable let-down once one sheds the delusion can be devastating.

i think everyone has known some incorrigable, hey-kid-get-off-the-lawn curmudgeon who wants to regale you with stories of walking eight miles to school in the snow (uphill, both ways). they've read 'the greatest generation' 6 times (12, counting the audiobook), and they remember wistfully when america felt self-sufficient and a force for good, rather than a gradually-devolving series of strip malls and strip joints. those are the kinds of guys whom you'd expect to tell you that playing your ball bearing yo-yo makes you less of a man; that its complacent, benevolent technology allows you to 'get away' with shenanigans for which you 'deserve' to be whacked about the knuckles.

i buy part of that. i do. in some respects, i've become the 'get-off-the-lawn' guy... but only ever to myself (i hope), and i think that's the way it should be. i think you should be your harshest critic... and also your most fervent supporter. i wouldn't pay any mind to some snot-nosed kid betting me i can't hit 'trick x' on my no jive... but do i pay mind when I say it? you bet. likewise, i don't go around criticizing people for the way they play, because i expect them to do that for themselves.

i don't believe that yo-yoing is dying some overbloated, decadent death, drowning in the warm milky bliss that bearings offer. i don't think we've been seduced by the 'dark side' that some of us assumed the technology would come to represent. i'm not sure how anyone could watch john ando or guy wright and claim that we're headed in the wrong direction. yo-yoing is ever on the move, and it really always has been. it hit us 'old folks' hard when bearings became ubiquitous, because it was a technological lightning bolt that revealed all of our assumptions (and many of our treasured skills) to be outmoded in its instantaneous flash. the field of play was warped, and suddenly creativity was rewarded ahead of effort and persistence. collectively, we're still working out how to cope with that upheaval.

you can look at essentially every technological development in our history. the printing press, the automobile... the sham-wow. if you want to experience the joy of a quill tracing across paper, then a movable-type printing press is not cheating... it's ineffective; superfluous. if you want to hike the appalachian trail, you will not feel 'slow' for not being in a car. if you crave the tone of a martin acoustic, a stratocaster just will not do. the only dissonance enters when you don't fully understand what you intend or mean.

i play wood axle yo-yo's an awful lot, and sometimes people ask me why i'm on spyy. i should think it's obvious. dynamic as it is, every attempt to grasp yo-yoing and pin it down is doomed to fail. because it is linked to our creative human spirit, there will always be a new direction in which to go; a new technology to employ and explore. sometimes, i want to experience cotton and wood sliding against each other (a sensation the like of which i have found no where else). sometimes, i want the yo-yo and string to 'get out of the way', allowing me to explore obscure and complex ideas. each perspective informs the other. neither is wrong. neither is destructive. neither is cheating.

i've said it before - yoyoing is an art. and try though you might, you really can't cheat at art, for which the subversion of our most cleverly-devised rules is an inherent proclivity. you might succeed in conning yourself occasionally, but that is pathetic rather than shameful or devious. by all means though, break those rules which you perceive. TRY to cheat... you might just inspire the next great mutation.

yo-yo #73: THP raider

... boom.

good lord, it's all i hear about lately. we're gonna wake up in a few weeks and yo-yo's are going to be everywhere, and we'll all be superstars, and sunshine and rainbows will cover the earth. and then what?

seriously, the community is all atwitter with news of an imminent 'yo-yo swell'. yyf and duncan are reporting serious sales increases. we've got the giganthomous hyper©®™ promotion going on in japan. you can suddenly buy yo-yo's (of a sort...) at walgreens for $4. guys like paul yath and paul han (pretty much the two best pauls i can imagine - oh hi, escolar!) are popping up in nice new marketing campaigns. and then there's this razor thing...

i don't want to get in a big tizzy over it. i already did that and got it out of my system. i like yo-yoing. i've done it for a fair while. most of the folks whom i'd call my best friends are yo-yoers. i want good things to happen to yo-yoing. but what does that mean.

the majority of people i hear talking about it seem to be under the impression that a boom is exactly what every yo-yoer has been waiting for. but let's examine that.

a boom is characterized by a sudden surge in popularity. people will want to yo-yo. retailers and manufacturers (some of whom are in the game now, and some of whom will jump on board as it happens) will respond to perceived demand by generating a much greater supply of yo-yo's and accessories, and putting those products within reach of the non-yoyoing public. people will buy said yo-yo's, which will generate awesome profits for the companies involved (if you have the startup to make and sell a million plastic yo-yo's, and the network to get them into retail stores, the profits can be immense). for awhile - maybe a few months, maybe a few years - there will be a metric ton of new yo-yo players, most of whom will obviously be total novices.

the issue with a boom is that (by its very nature) it must be followed by a bust. given a quick surge, there will come a time when yo-yo's are so ubiquitous that they are no longer in demand. if markets have not been prepared in a sustainable way (i.e. if kids lack the means to get good at yo-yoing and the desire to stick with it), then people will stop buying yo-yo's relatively quickly. if there are events, promotions, and learning tools in place to keep yo-yoing interesting, the boom may be prolonged. regardless, manufacturers and retailers will need to be extremely flexible and wary amidst the chaos, so as to position themselves properly for the inevitable bust. around y2k, when the last boom evaporated, seemingly overnight, HUGE amounts of product were left over. retailers found themselves selling it off cheaply, sometimes at a loss, and having misread the demand, a number of manufacturers were left choking on stockpiles of yo-yo's.

i bought this yo-yo in 1998. actually i bought a pair, a blue and a black. at some point much later, i foolishly tried the raider crush mod on one of them and destroyed it. at the time i bought it (for $30), you couldn't find them. they were sold out everywhere and i happened to be in zany brainy when the shipment arrived. THP of course, refers to Team High Performance, the teal-clad engine of yo-yo domination that burst onto the scene with their fancy transaxles. although boom-icon jennifer baybrook and such luminaries as paul han, ryan lai, and pat cuartero were members, i really didn't know much about them aside from their loud shirts and the card-full of difficult tricks you had to master to make the team. this yo-yo spun forever - for. ev. er. and once it broke in, it made tricks like split the atom or hydrogen bomb (which used to separate the men from the boys) positively easy.

by the end of the boom, a bazillion yo-yo's had been sold, but the number of people who kept with it afterwards was comparatively tiny. companies are businesses, and a number of them had to push the eject button, escaping from the market altogether with fistfulls of cash (or, if they were too slow, buried in debt). the community was shuffled up a bit, and yo-yoing went back to being a kind of 'niche' thing.

it's worth asking who stands to benefit from a boom? the companies who are well-positioned for one; namely those with the capacity to make large amounts of entry-level yo-yo's available to consumers. as of now, companies like duncan and yoyofactory have demonstrated this ability. both of those companies can put $10 throws in retail stores, sell them by the truck load, and make a killing. also, having invested a great deal in the yo-yo community during the intervening years, those are the companies with the most to gain in KEEPING yo-yoing popular. i think that, lacking some specifically bad experience with either, anyone who would call themselves a yo-yoer should want those two companies to do well. they sponsor contests. they push the standard of quality forward. they interact with the community, and frequently respond to its demands.

companies like peter fish or razor, who clearly have the ability to sell a lot of yo-yo's, but who have yet to demonstrate accountability to the community, are likely to make a bunch of money and then run away. nothing personal; just business. maybe they'll prove me wrong. it'll be on yo-yoers to watch these new companies and determine whether they're invested in yo-yoing, or whether they just mean to use it to bathe in duckets. it should be pretty obvious. so far, neither company has really 'given' anything to yo-yoing - no high-quality product, no sponsored events, no interaction with the community or the online stores. if they want to be perceived as caring about yo-yoing, those things will change. if not, they'll stay the same.

the boutique metal companies don't really have the means to interact with boom-consumers directly. no beginner will go online to buy a super-expensive first yo-yo when they can buy a speedle at TRU for $8, and few retail stores will sign up for the risk associated with carrying expensive throws. i remember when the last boom puked its last, and my local Hobby Lobby was desperately marking down SB-2's and cold fusions from $120+ to <$30. companies like clyw, spyy, and one drop can market their butts off, but on some level they'll have to hope that beginners latch on, see the pros throwing expensive metals, and decide follow suit. though that may happen to some extent, i doubt those companies will be raking in the kind of coin that those with entry-level plastics will see. if we could slow the boom down, and players who get into it have an opportunity to mature... the smaller high-end companies could stand to gain greatly, and the community would benefit from the new blood. i think it's also reasonable to ask oneself why a boom is desirable. some kids want yo-yoing to be popular so that they, themselves will be. i feel like that's kind of sad, although no more so than the kids who DON'T want yo-yoing to be popular so that they'll be perceived as unique and interesting. if you like yo-yoing (or love it), it makes sense to want to see it expand. but remember that there's a difference between expansion and unchecked, cancerous growth. after the latter, you might not recognize the landscape of yo-yoing at all. in my opinion, what we want to see is not this protracted cycle of boom/bust, but more managed and sustained development. i want to see yo-yoing grow in popularity, gain mainstream appeal, and see the companies that give a crap about it rewarded for their years of effort. i don't think that's what a boom really does, however. consider the landscape of the last boom. in 1996, yo-yoing was pretty dead. there weren't a lot of people doing it, and being good at it seemed impossibly hard. in 1999, it was inescapably everywhere, everyone and your mom was yo-yoing, and new technology made it seem like being good at it was possible. then by 2002, it was pretty dead; many of the new players had quit, and the standard of play had been reset, making it once again seem difficult and obscure. how much better would it be for a yyf, yyj, or duncan to experience 15 years of incrementally growing popularity, rather than 3 years of killing it (and potentially 1 being left with a warehouse of yo-yo's they can't sell)? if instead of the boom model, we could see yo-yo companies (and the community) enjoy that sort of gradual growth, i think it would be preferable. most of the yo-yoers i know would like yo-yoing to be a big deal again. they'd like it to be seen and appreciated as the hybrid sport/performance art that it is. they'd like every kid to have a yo-yo in his/her pocket. booms are pretty successful in GETTING those yo-yo's there, but to KEEP them in kids' pockets (or better yet - on their fingers) takes a different, more patient approach. i hope we find that our companies are up for that. i think that some of them will be, and some will miss out (thanks, cptn. obvious!). the scene isn't what it was 13 years ago. the culture isn't the same. some people feel that a boom of the same scope isn't even possible, because kids won't latch on in the same way. 'good yo-yoing' has become extremely technical, and while the technology allows a kid to throw a minute-long sleeper on a few minutes of practice... it still takes months to get 'ok'. are kids today up for that? i guess we'll find out.

if it does come to pass, i hope that we as yo-yoers are able to keep our wits about us. i hope that we're able to use our voice and experience to advocate for those companies which have worked to enrich our experience for years even without a boom. i hope that we're able to express to those just starting up that this is a pretty bitchin' deal we've got going here (if you'll pardon the vernacular); that it's well worth the effort.

i pick this yo-yo up and feel a little conflicted. on the one hand i remember how exciting it was when yo-yo's were suddenly everywhere - how it felt like a movement, the sole object of which was FUN. on the other, i remember how lame it felt for that movement to suddenly asphyxiate in the night. i want to see my friends rewarded for their skill and for their work. i want guys like steve brown and john higby to be able to tack a zero on to their average audience size (and their performance fee). i want guys like ben and hans to be able to retire to the polynesian island of their choosing. i want to see yo-yoing take its place on the pulse of pop consciousness once again... i just don't want to watch it explode into emptiness the way it did before.