Lord of the Rings

When most people think of jousting they imagine lances splintering on shields and knights in shining armor, not tiny rings of rope and out-of-shape reporters wearing helmets.

It is a little-known fact that jousting is actually Maryland's state sport. On Sept. 4 jousters from across the state will descend on Timonium to participate in a jousting tournament at the Maryland State Fair. It is the sports first appearance at the fair in more than a decade.

In anticipation for the big day, I asked the Amateur Jousting Club of Maryland to provide me lessons and an insider's perspective on the unique sport.

My horse riding experience peaked when I was 7, trotting in a circle while my steed … who am I kidding? … my pony was tied to a post. Flash forward 16 years to a recent Monday morning and I'm wearing a helmet and using a stepping stool to climb aboard Radar – the "user-friendly" training horse.

"If you can't ride Radar you might as well stick a quarter in the carousel," said Sue Eid, a club member and horse handler.

Radar was more content to stick his nose to the ground and graze all day, oblivious to the novice rider learning how to properly brace himself in the saddle.

After I watched the pros dart down the track, the objective of the sport became clear.

From gate to gate riders have nine seconds to race down an alley aiming for three suspended rings, ranging in size from 1 inch to 1.75 inches. Ring size depends on the skill level of the knight or maid. 

My goal for the day was a bit more realistic: make the run in 19 seconds (nice and easy), successfully lance one of the larger rings (preferably the size of a toilet seat) and don't fall off the horse.

Riding Radar was like learning to drive a manual transmission, only instead of idling in neutral he always wanted to be on the move when facing the alley and the rings. This is typical for most jousting horses, Eid told me. They are conditioned to take off. Their instinct is all "giddy-up"; mine is all "whoa."

Adding to the similarity of driving a stick shift, I had to hold a lance with one hand and steer with the other. My pro instructors were using metal, harpoon-type lances with sharp, thin points.

I, however, was given a blunted broom handle – and I was grateful for it.

With my left hand, I tightly gripped Radar's mane and rein in what would be the "eight" position on a steering wheel.

With my right hand, I pinned my lance against my arm to prevent it from bouncing with my body as I rode.

I watched club president Tiffany Ramsey, dubbed the Maid of Rolling Thunder, as she exploded down the alley once more. Her title comes from the sound of her horse's hooves as she seamlessly catches all three rings at a full on sprint.

My turn was next. Sort of.  Hall took a firm grip of Radar's rein and jogged me down the lane. The slower the horse went, the more it bounced.

Even at a near walk I missed all three rings on my first pass.

I'm not sure which part was harder: standing and trusting my legs to brace against Radar or watching the point of my lance come up to a target smaller than a bracelet.

Regardless, I had to start trying on my own.

I circled back to the starting gate and was told how best to build Radar's speed.

Turns out you just have to show him a little love.

"Kissin's for cantering," said Eid, as she let go for the final time. A canter is a speed somewhere between a trot and a gallop.

At the other end of the alley Peggy Hoffman shouted the starting call:

"The rings are hung, the track is clear. Charge, sir knight. Charge!"

As I pursed my lips together I was taken back to a 13-year-old me, to my first "girlfriend's" basement where I had my nervous first kiss.

I puckered up, kissed the air and we were off. My left hand turned white from my tight grip on Radar's locks. I tried to steady my right arm as I came to the first ring.

Deflected. I hit the ring but failed to catch it.

There was no time to waste as I approached ring No. 2. Bruce Hoffman, a seasoned pro and the Knight of Maple Hill, yelled at me to keep my lance tip up. My head was down, focused squarely on the tip of my broom handle.

Success. The ring slipped down the tip of my broom handle lance.

I was too worried about stopping to pay due diligence to the last ring. What would you call the equivalent of an "air ball" in jousting?

I pulled back on the reins and shouted "whoa" just as Radar trotted through the last arch. It was exhilarating to say the least.

After a few more attempts I actually managed to catch two rings on one run.

"Ooh boy, you're going to be sore tomorrow," said Eid as I dismounted Radar. My calves were already painfully tightening as I walked back to my car. But I was still shaking from the ride to determine how hurt I really was.

Aside from actually catching the rings, the hardest aspect of the sport is standing up and leaning forward. The sport is 90 percent form, 10 percent nerve.

Still, I was quite pleased with how I rode that morning in Glen Arm.

I began the day as a journalist and ended the day a knight – the Knight of Patch.com.

Members of the Amateur Jousting Club of Maryland will be competing in the Maryland State Fair on Sept. 4 at 6 p.m. 

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An earlier version of this story incorrectly attributed a quote. We regret the error.