Wanna Play? — Custom Cornhole Boards from the Workshop

Nobody really knows where cornhole came from. There’s a version of the story set in 14th-century Germany. Another one credits a Kentucky farmer in the 1800s. A third puts it in Cincinnati sometime in the 1970s. Midwesterners have been arguing about it for decades and nobody’s winning that fight anytime soon.

What we do know: the American Cornhole League was founded in 2005, there are now professional players who travel the country tossing bags for a living, and at any given summer backyard gathering, at least one person is taking it way too seriously. Somehow that person is always the most fun to beat.

I’ve been making custom cornhole boards out of the workshop for a while now — not constantly, but when someone comes to me with a vision, I’m in. And the visions people bring are always interesting.

Before we get into the fun stuff, let’s talk about what these boards actually are. Because not all cornhole boards are created equal, and I want to be upfront about how mine are made.

These are built from solid wood. Not pressboard. Not chipboard. Not whatever passes for “wood” at the big box store. Real, solid lumber that holds up to actual use. The frames are solid, the surface is smooth, and they come with handles cut into the sides so you can actually carry them to the backyard like a normal person instead of bear-hugging a flat board across your lawn.

Take care of them — meaning don’t leave them soaking in rain — and these boards will still be in your backyard long after the store-bought ones have warped, split, and been thrown out. That’s not a sales line, it’s just what happens when you build something right.

Yes, they cost a little more than what you’d grab off a shelf at a big box store. But you get what you pay for, and what you pay for here is something you’ll still be playing on in ten years.

Every set starts the same way: a sheet of half-inch plywood on the CNC bed, clamps locked down, and a 6-inch hole cut with the kind of precision that a jigsaw and a prayer simply cannot deliver. The frame is solid wood — the top is flat, straight plywood, which is exactly what you want for a playing surface. The CNC doesn’t waver. The hole is perfect every time, centered exactly where it needs to be.

From there it’s all about prep. The surface gets sanded smooth, and anything that needs painted gets masked off with tape first. Sloppy edges ruin the whole look — especially on boards where the graphics are doing the heavy lifting.

After paint, the graphics go on — either vinyl cut on the plotter, or a combination of paint and vinyl layers depending on the design. That’s where each set becomes its own thing.

My neighbour saw some of the custom work coming out of the shop and came to me with an idea. He’s a die-hard Leafs fan — emphasis on “die-hard” — and he wanted boards that honoured the team and roasted them at the same time. As any Toronto fan will tell you, those two things are inseparable.

The Leafs haven’t won the Stanley Cup since 1967. That’s not a typo. 1967. Before the moon landing. Before the internet. Before most of their current fanbase was born. And yet those fans show up every single season, hope in their hearts and pain in their history.

“Just Once Before I Die” isn’t a roast. It’s a prayer. And it belongs on a cornhole board in the backyard of every Leafs fan who’s been watching since before the last rebuild.

This one came from a good friend who wanted something completely different. No sports. No sentiment. Pure personality.

The brief was essentially: Bride of Chucky themed, needs to be unhinged in the best possible way. White boards, red edges, red ring around the hole. And the graphic — Chucky and Tiffany, the “Double Trouble” logo treatment, and three words that work as both a game invitation and a horror movie threat:

Wanna Play?

The art is cut vinyl, layered to get the detail and depth you see in the illustration. Getting Chucky and Tiffany right took some work — there are fine lines in the character art that vinyl does not forgive if you rush the weed or the application. But the result is exactly what it should be: a set of cornhole boards that stops the conversation the moment you pull them out.

These are two of my favourites, but every set I’ve made has been different. Some are simple — a clean graphic, a bold colour, a good finish. Others go deep into custom territory. Whatever the vision, the build is always the same: solid wood, real hardware, built to actually last.

If you’ve got an idea for a set, reach out. I don’t take every project, but I love a good brief.