I'll betcha 20 years, at least.
But there was a time when it was fairly common around our house to enjoy a friendly, but hotly contested, game of horseshoes out behind the garage, at a neighbor's house or at a family picnic.
In some areas of York County a half-century ago, it was commonplace to find horseshoe pits next to places of business, so workers could enjoy a few games at lunch time. It seemed there was always a game of horseshoes going on somewhere.
I was reminded of that last week when I spent a few hours at the World Horseshoe Pitching Championships at the York Fairgrounds, watching the best of the best pitchers in this country (and beyond) in competition. The championships will be held Saturday -- women at 8 a.m. and men at 1 p.m.
Let me tell you, I was never -- not even in my prime, whenever that was -- half as good as these pitchers of steel.
Did I say half? I meant one-tenth. The best of them throw ringers 75 to 85 percent of the time. The defending men's champion, Alan Francis, tosses ringers 88.10 percent of the time. The defending women's champ, Joan Elmore, is almost as good at 87.97 percent ringers.
Think about that. Each of them scores a ringer almost nine throws out of 10. They could hardly do better if they were playing the clothespin-in-a-bottle game, where the target is only two feet
One of the best pitchers in York County horseshoe history is Dick Dart, a well-seasoned resident of Mount Wolf. He tosses ringers 59 percent of the time.
Me? I was lucky to throw a ringer once (maybe twice on a good day) out of every 10 throws.
And that was good enough to make me reasonably competitive in a backyard contest.
But that's not why I played horseshoes way back then -- we're talking 45 to 50 years ago. I played to win, of course, but I didn't mind losing, either. I enjoyed the camaraderie of the experience. It was good-natured. Plenty of laughter. Lots of ribbing. It was a great way to spent a few leisure hours in the evening -- after supper until the sun went down.
More than that, it was time well spent with my dad.
Horseshoes was one of only two competitive games -- the other was bowling -- my father could play. He loved baseball, basketball, football, all the games I played growing up, and though he watched all my games, he never played any of them himself.
Bowling was different. So was horseshoes. He took both games seriously. And he was good at both. Not expert, but darned good.
That was my challenge, whether I was competing against Dad or playing with him as my partner. I was 14 or 15 years old, and I wanted to hold my own against him. And if I beat him occasionally, all the better.
Our backyard game was a far cry from the conditions at the World Horseshoe Pitching Championships in York. Yes, still 40 feet from stake to stake, and the shoes weighed about 21/2 pounds apiece. The dirt was regular backyard dirt, though, not the fancy clay you find on the competition circuit. A ringer was 3 points, closest to stake was 1 point, leaners and touches were winners. The first to 21 would win, but you had to win by two points.
More often than not, my father won.
Precious memories, those.
Dad died 28 years ago.
I've played horseshoes once since he died, and it just wasn't the same. Something was missing.
I was reminded of that last week at the World Horseshoe Pitching Championships.
The good stuff you just never forget.
Columns by Larry A. Hicks, Dispatch columnist, run Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. E-mail: lhicks@yorkdispatch.com.
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