海角大神

Augie Fash climbs onto the outdoor stage at the city plaza here, yo-yo in hand. The crowd is lively, expectant. They know Fash鈥檚 skills. Around these parts, he鈥檚 something of a legend.

A rock song by AFI booms forth from the speakers, and Fash, a psychology student at California State University, Chico, begins to flick his yo-yo. His three-minute routine builds like a symphony 鈥� only it鈥檚 conducted at fiber-optic speed.

He spools and unspools his yo-yo into a series of complicated spirals and lassos and cat鈥檚 cradles. At times, it appears to hover in the air above him. Periodically he flashes an impish grin toward his fans.

鈥淎ugielicious!鈥� someone screams.

This is not your father鈥檚 yo-yo. Neither is it your brother鈥檚 or cousin鈥檚, for that matter. This is world-class performance art 鈥� Yo-Yo Mas playing a different kind of string. Here at the annual US National Yo-Yo Championships, top competitors fly in from Michigan and Florida and Washington State and proceed to dismantle any traditional notions you might have about what the toy can and cannot do.

Routines involve everything from looping the string around ears, elbows, or thighs to tossing a yo-yo into the air and catching it behind one鈥檚 back. Often using two yo-yos at once, they pass over tired tricks such as 鈥渞ock the baby鈥� (dangling the yo-yo like a pendulum) and 鈥渨alk the dog鈥� (rolling it along the floor) in favor of the 鈥済yroscopic flop鈥� and the 鈥渋ron whip鈥� (use your imagination).

鈥淚t just puts people agog,鈥� says Bob Malowney, the founder and director of the national championships.

Contest judges give points based on complexity and delivery; they deduct points for tangled strings and loss of control. The young players 鈥� almost all males in their preteens to early 30s 鈥� range from artsy musicians to science geeks, though there is one college shotput thrower. Most tend to favor a skateboarding aesthetic. Beyond that, they defy categorization.

鈥淚 know a kid who鈥檚 perfectly normal, cool at school, plays basketball, and he yo-yos,鈥� says Leif Hasle, a preteen from Chico.

As a group, the players are breathing new life into the old toy partly because of technical innovations. The addition of ball bearings during the 1990s allowed yo-yos to spin much faster. The Internet has also made an impact 鈥� the YouTube generation now shares tricks with players as far away as Brazil or Japan.

But the appeal of the yo-yo ultimately boils down to this: Most people want to be good at something, to feel a part of something bigger than themselves. That鈥檚 as true for floppy-haired boys in black hipster clothes as it is for teachers or wingtip-wearing accountants. Add to that a flair for performance, a taste for competition, and a slightly obsessive personality (some yo-yo players practice while brushing their teeth) and 鈥� voila! 鈥� a pocket-size toy becomes a perfect pastime.

鈥淚 think it鈥檚 one of the very few things that crosses gender lines and crosses racial lines and crosses economic lines,鈥� says Jack Ringca, who in 2005鈥檚 national contest won the 5A division, in which the string is unattached to the player鈥檚 hand. He now manages yo-yo teams worldwide for Duncan Toys.

In reality, lines do exist. Males outnumber females in the yo-yo world by about 100 to 1, says Bill Deboisblanc, the contest鈥檚 head judge. Still, Mr. Ringca says, the few top female yo-yo players receive great respect.
To prove his point, he mentions 鈥淏u-ko,鈥� a Japanese phenom. A murmur flutters among his friends.

鈥淪ee?鈥� he says.

鈥⑩赌⑩赌�

The players converge on this tree-lined Northern California community every year for a simple reason: No city loves yo-yo more than Chico loves yo-yo. International players vacationing in the US consider the city of 87,000 a 鈥渕ust-see.鈥�

It houses the world鈥檚 only public yo-yo museum, complete with thousands of old Duncan Butterflies and Monarch Tricksters and the world鈥檚 largest working yo-yo (at 256 pounds, it requires a crane).

On Friday, the evening before the national contest, Ringca and several dozen other players gather inside the museum to wait out a rainstorm. The museum takes up the entire back section of Bird in Hand, Malowney鈥檚 toy store.

Malowney, the museum鈥檚 director, is a veritable encyclopedia of yo-yo history. He tells visitors about the yo-yo鈥檚 golden era, in the 1950s and 鈥�60s, and about its gradual disappearance from the limelight as hula-hoops and Frisbees emerged. He fondly recalls the day in 1988 when Tommy Smothers of the Smothers Brothers comedy team brought a yo-yo on TV and a renaissance was born.

Malowney started his local yo-yo contest that year. By 1993, it only made sense to go national as contestants began flying in from Florida, Virginia, and Illinois. Since then, the sport has exploded.

鈥淚t鈥檚 an epidemic of yo-yos, seriously,鈥� says Jeff Mullins, a computer engineer who brought his grandson, David Leyva, up from Phoenix. Mr. Mullins estimates that he鈥檚 spent $4,000 or $5,000 on about 65 yo-yos for David, who is a practice-while-brushing-your-teeth type kid. The best ones cost $300 to $400 apiece.

鈥⑩赌⑩赌�

After the museum closes Friday, the contestants flock to the Holiday Inn, which quickly becomes a quirky adolescent utopia. Fueled by Squirt and Fruit Snacks, boys fill the halls with their looping plastic orbs. They yo-yo while talking on cellphones; they yo-yo in the elevator.

Couples leaving a reception weave their way through the throng. The wives smile in bemusement; a glint of longing flashes in the husbands鈥� eyes.

The next morning, as a gray sky spits drizzle, young Leif Hasle and his friend John Ferre stand on the grass practicing before the competition begins. Leif cheerfully lists the yo-yo鈥檚 many attributes.

鈥淚t鈥檚 fun. It鈥檚 out of the ordinary. It鈥檚 not something everyone does. It鈥檚 entertaining. It never seems to end the fun of it.鈥� He pauses. 鈥淎nd it鈥檚 interesting.鈥�

鈥淵eah,鈥� John agrees. 鈥淭hat pretty much sums it up.鈥�

Plenty of spectators have shown up to watch. A reporter, photographer, and videographer from Chico State鈥檚 newspaper, The Orion, stake out the plaza, periodically interviewing Fash. Fash and his roommate 鈥� who is also competing 鈥� both admit that the city鈥檚 affinity for the yo-yo is part of what drew them to attend school here. Fash deems the toy 鈥済ood for my twitchy personality.鈥�

While on a service trip with several other teenagers, he once yo-yoed at a Mexican prison. He was initially terrified, he says, but the prisoners loved it. As he left, they banged their coffee cups on their windows and yelled: 鈥淓l Yo-Yo!鈥� That became his nickname.

Late in the afternoon, the day鈥檚 most hotly contested competition 鈥� the 1A 鈥� gets started. A 14-year-old from Minneapolis throws his yo-yo under and around his leg. A 22-year-old from Cupertino, Calif., bounces his yo-yo out of his hat. They do 鈥渟pirit bombs鈥� and 鈥渟plit the atoms鈥� and the aptly named 鈥渂oingy.鈥�

Then El Yo-Yo takes the stage. Later, Fash will readily confess to missing a couple moves and repeating a couple more, but to the layperson, all those twirls and throws and (he鈥檚-doing-that-upside-down?) tricks look incredible.

Nearby, someone has stoked up a barbecue. The sky has finally cleared, and the plaza is bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. The music is pumping, the crowd is whooping, and little Chico is loving its yo-yo.