You know what’s humbling? Getting absolutely destroyed at washers by your own grandson at the family reunion three summers ago. There I was, 65 years old, figured I knew how to toss a metal disc into a hole twenty feet away – I mean, how hard could it be, right? Well, little Tommy just casually walked up, barely glanced at the target, and started dropping washers like he had some kind of GPS system built into his arm. Meanwhile, I’m throwing these wild shots that are landing everywhere except where I want them. Carol was trying not to laugh, but I could tell she was enjoying watching me get taken down a peg by a kid who still needs a booster seat at restaurants.
That embarrassing afternoon sent me on what Carol calls my “washer obsession phase.” Spent the next few months figuring out what I was doing wrong and why some people make this game look effortless while others – namely me – look like they’re trying to throw with their feet. Turns out there’s a whole lot more to washers than just chucking metal discs and hoping for the best.
Most folks approach this game the same way I did initially – grip it tight, throw it hard, pray it lands somewhere useful. But after months of practice in our backyard (much to our neighbor’s amusement), I’ve learned that good washer throwing is less about strength and more about understanding what you’re actually trying to do with that little metal disc.
The grip thing was my first breakthrough. I was squeezing those washers like I was trying to juice them, which made my whole hand shake by the time I released. Then I’d overcorrect and hold them so loose they’d slip out sideways. Found my sweet spot when Tommy told me to hold it “like you’re holding a cookie you don’t want to break but also don’t want to drop.” Kid’s got a way with analogies, I’ll give him that. The washer should feel secure in your fingers without making your knuckles turn white.
Release point – now that’s where I was really messing up. First few weeks, I was letting go too early and sending washers sailing clear over the target box like I was trying to reach the next county. Then I’d compensate by holding on too long, and they’d hit the ground about ten feet in front of me. Took me forever to realize I needed to stop thinking about “throwing” and start thinking about “delivering” the washer to its destination.
Here’s something that completely changed my game, and I wish someone had told me this from the start – your arm doesn’t stop working once that washer leaves your hand. Used to be, I’d release and immediately drop my arm like I was done. Wrong approach entirely. Your throwing motion should continue all the way through, pointing toward where you want that washer to land. It’s like bowling, in a way – the follow-through is what keeps everything consistent.
Distance control nearly drove me crazy for the first month. Regulation distance is 21 feet, but conditions change everything. Windy day? Washers fly different. Humid afternoon? They seem heavier. Playing on grass versus dirt? Completely different game. I started throwing a few practice rounds at the beginning of every session, not trying to score points but just getting a feel for how the washers were behaving that particular day.
The trajectory revelation came when I was watching some guys play at a church picnic. Most people, including me, were throwing these high arcing tosses like we were lobbing grenades. But the good players? They were throwing flatter, more controlled shots. Started experimenting with a lower trajectory – not line drives, but not rainbow throws either. More like skipping stones, but with just enough lift to clear the distance. Way more predictable.
Nobody talks about bounce, but it matters more than you’d think. Hard-packed dirt, those washers might skip once and settle down. Soft grass, they stick pretty much where they first hit. Started paying attention to the playing surface before each game, looking for spots that might affect how my washers behave when they land.
Weight shift was another game-changer. Used to plant both feet like I was rooted to the ground and throw everything with just my arm. Now I shift my weight from back foot to front foot during the throw – creates this smooth, flowing motion that adds power without requiring me to muscle it. Plus it helps with consistency, which at my age is way more important than trying to throw harder than everyone else.
Learning to really look at the target area helped too. Instead of just aiming for the general area around the hole, I started identifying specific landing zones. Where would a washer need to hit to slide naturally toward the hole? Where could it land and still score even if it bounced funny? This kind of thinking turned my random tosses into actual strategy.
Mental game is huge, especially when you’re playing with family and there’s good-natured trash talk happening. Used to let one bad throw ruin the next three. Now each throw is its own thing – bad shot happens, fine, that one’s over. The next washer doesn’t care what the previous one did.
Practice drills made the biggest difference. Instead of just playing games all the time, I’d set up targets at different distances and work on accuracy. Twenty minutes of focused practice beats two hours of casual throwing every single time. Even practiced with my left hand occasionally, which sounds crazy but actually helped me understand my regular technique better.
Started paying attention to environmental stuff too – wind direction, where the sun is, whether there are distractions around. These things don’t control the outcome, but being aware helps you adjust. Like if the wind’s coming from the right, I’ll aim slightly left to compensate.
Strategy took me way too long to figure out. Always went for the hole shot, thinking that three-pointer was always the best choice. But sometimes you’re better off throwing washers to block your opponent or set up your next throw. The best toss isn’t always the one that scores the most points right away.
What really matters is consistency over spectacular shots. I’d rather land eight out of ten washers in the scoring area than nail two perfect hole shots and whiff completely on the other eight. Building a reliable technique that works most of the time beats trying to be a hero with every throw.
These days, when we have family gatherings, I hold my own pretty well against Tommy – though he’s 15 now and has gotten even better, the little show-off. But I’m not embarrassing myself anymore, and that’s what counts. Carol jokes that I’ve turned washer throwing into a science project, but hey, it worked. Sometimes us older folks just need to approach things a bit more methodically than the kids who seem to figure everything out by instinct.
Raymond’s a retired electrician from Pennsylvania who discovered modern board games through his grandkids. He writes about family gaming across generations—teaching rules, keeping things simple, and creating screen-free time that actually sticks.
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