There is something quietly excellent about a conker tournament. A bucket of horse chestnuts, a length of string, and suddenly the whole village has an opinion. Children enter because it looks like fun, adults enter because they remember being good at it in 1987, and someone's grandmother turns out to be ruthless. The good news is that running one is not complicated. It just needs a date, a set of rules everyone has read, and one person willing to hold a clipboard.
Three decisions come first, because everything else depends on them.
The date. Conkers are at their best from late September through October, when the shells have split and the nuts are still glossy and firm. Go too early and you will be shaking trees; go too late and you will be sorting through a bucket of shrivelled brown rocks. A Saturday afternoon works well. Pick a rain date at the same time, or book somewhere with a roof.
The venue. You want somewhere flat, sheltered and easy to find. A pub garden is ideal if you ask the landlord first and make it worth their while with the post-match trade. A village hall with a field beside it gives you a wet-weather fallback in the same place. Parks often need permission from the council or the friends group that manages them, so check before you print anything. Wherever you land, confirm it in writing and ask about power, toilets and parking.
The scale. A knockout bracket of 32 entrants is a comfortable first event and can be run by two marshals in an afternoon. A round robin suits a smaller group better, because everyone plays more than once and nobody goes home after ninety seconds. Decide your capacity now, and decide your start time. Sign-in from 12.15pm with a 1pm start gives you room for the latecomers who will absolutely turn up at five past one.
Almost every argument at a conker tournament comes from rules nobody agreed on. Print a sheet and hand it out. Keep it plain:
On hardening: many competitions insist on conkers exactly as they fall, with no soaking, baking or varnishing, and the organisers drill and string them all to keep things honest. That approach solves a lot of problems. If you do allow a trick like a vinegar soak, allow it for everyone and mention it on the poster.
A conker that wins a round is a "one-er", then a "two-er" and so on. Write the player's name and running total on a sticky label on the string, or keep it on the bracket sheet. It gives you a tiebreaker, and it gives the winner a trophy worth keeping.
Nothing here is expensive, but forgetting half of it on the morning is miserable.
A sensible note while we are here: horse chestnuts are not food. Keep them away from anyone who might chew one, wash hands after drilling and handling, and keep them out of reach of dogs. A quick word with a pharmacist or your GP is the right move if anyone does swallow one and feels unwell.
Posters work when they go in the right places: the school gate, the library, the chippy, the allotment noticeboard, the bus shelter. Add a line to the parish newsletter, which is often free, and ask the school to mention it. Local Facebook groups and community WhatsApp chats do the rest, and the local paper will usually list an event in its community diary if you send the details a fortnight ahead.
Tell people plainly what they get, what it costs and whether spectators are welcome. Spectators are always welcome. Take pre-registrations by name so you know your numbers, but hold back a handful of places for walk-ups, because half the pleasure of the day is watching someone's grandad decide to enter on the spot. If you are collecting for a charity, check the current rules on collections and raffles with the venue or your local authority first, since they vary by area.
An hour-by-hour plan keeps the whole thing from drifting.
Say at the briefing that the marshal's decision is final, and then deliver it kindly and without wobble. Wet conkers slip and crack, so have a gazebo or a hall ready and move indoors early rather than waiting for the downpour. If a conker shatters, keep the pieces on the table as evidence until the next match starts. Keep one spare drilled conker aside for a sudden-death replay, and never replay a match once a conker is off its string.
Put the winning conker in a jar with its kill count on the label and hand it to the champion alongside the trophy. Take a group photograph while everyone is still smiling. Thank the venue out loud, count the tin, and settle any charity money the same week. Then, before the buzz wears off, book next year's date and write down three things that went wrong. That note is the most useful thing you will produce all day, and next October you will be glad you made it.
Photo: George Zografidis / Pexels
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