What follows are summaries of the types of sports that are played in Middle-earth, organized by race. There are overlaps, of course; participants of different races are often spectators at the same event (leading to some lively crowd interactions!), and some sports are practiced by more than one race (i.e., yacht racing by Elves and Men). But each race definitely has its own way of adding to the colorful pastiche that is sports in Middle-earth!
On the other hand, spectators need not fear to witness another Elf sport: yacht racing. The descendants of Ëarendil in particular like sailing, and willingly participate in the yearly Regatta on the coast of Belfalas. Unfortunately, while the First Born are exceptional sailors, their numbers have dwindled much in recent years, so much so that most of the entries now feature crews entirely of Men. Also, since Men are less likely to pay their respects to Ulmo, terrible drowning accidents have become more common, resulting in fewer entries; in the past what was a veritable yacht sea is now a much dicier proposition for all concerned.
If you do plan to visit a glittering underground Dwarf palace, such as New Menegroth, and you get tired of ogling their hoards of cleverly-wrought armor, jewel-studded belts and ornamental drinking cups, go ahead and make a side trip to a betting dais. Just make sure you don't insult the proprietor's ancestors, stick to sports you know, and go easy on the mead.
Sports Played by Dwarves
Dwarves do engage in some sports, but they actively discourage spectators of non-Dwarf origin. Which is probably for the best, for their sports are of martial origin, and sometimes involve active blood-letting. Dwarves are notoriously tough, however, and will often shrug off injuries that would incapacitate a Man or Elf.
Their favorite sport has no rules, other than keeping a head count: Orc Hewing. Such contests can't be scheduled, of course, since Orcs can't be reliably expected to wander into Dwarf realms (unless part of a scheduled invasion from Mordor, of course). Nevertheless, Orc heads garnered in Orc Hewing contests are highly prized by purveyors of Orc Ball.
There is one sport that Dwarves no longer play: Oak Hewing. This is because a party of Wood-elves once tricked some Dwarves into playing a game of Oak-Hewing at Fanghorn Forest, and Oak Hewing quickly turned into a game of Stomp the Dwarves by one very disturbed Ent.
Men of Gondor
While Men all over Middle-earth engage in various sporting contests, it is only in Gondor where they consistently come out to watch them. The most popular sport, of course, is Orc Ball. Though a number venues exist in the capital of the Southern Kingdom, the best spot to take in a match is undoubtedly Osgiliath Field, on the banks of the Anduin River. While watching the lads from stone benches carved from quarries near Mt. Mindolliun, you can hearken to vendors hawking the best Lebennin ale and fried fish delicacies brought up on ships from the fisher folk of South Ithilien. Colorful banners are the order of the day, and in the crowd you are likely to see just about anyone, from a Lost Lord of Arnor to a party of Harad incense dealers. With such a motley crowd, of course, tensions sometimes run high, particularly when the Dark Lord has sent one of his Nazgûl scouts to check out the talent.
The game of Orc Ball itself is, at first glance, deceptively simple. Unlike most ball sports, it is played in a ring-shaped, rather than a rectangular-shaped, field. The objective of the game is to advance the ball from the center of the ring to the outer part of the ring without actually crossing over the ring line. Judges determine how close to the ring line--and how long it must be held there--the ball must be in order for the holder to score.
It is this participatory element of the judges that makes Orc Ball truly unique. Ideally, in sports from our world, the umpires are expected to be impartial arbiters, impervious to the influence of biased spectators and players alike. But in Middle-earth you will find a different attitude when it comes to sports. Judges are not only expected to NOT be impartial, but the art of swaying their judgment is an integral part of the game. Usually this takes the form of threats, pronouncements of doom, or Weirs laid upon them. Some judges are known to be enchanted by Elf-song, and teams vie to bring in the finest throats from Lothlórien and Rivendell. Others can be plied with food or drink, or the hands of fair maidens (in marriages that can easily be annulled in certain South Gondor establishments). A wizard wishing to add to his purse has been known to cast a few spells, not only on the judges but on the players. Even the appearance and condition of the ball can influence a judge.
Those players who are awarded a goal bring honor to both themselves and their team. Play continues throughout the day until shadows stretch across the field, and the strange cries of fell beasts are heard by all. Don't be alarmed by these cries, even if they do seem to come from Mordor; they're normal, and no cause for unrestrained panic. At the end of the game, the player with the most goals is awarded the coveted title of Ring Lord in a touching ceremony that is not to be missed.
Finally, there is much speculation as to the matter of the origin of the sport's name. The most common explanation is that its name comes from the fact that the ball employed is the freshly-hewn head of an Orc.
Men of Rohan
Being lovers of horses, it is only natural to assume that these hardy and proud Men race their beasts, and indeed they do. The manner in which they race them, however, may surprise the modern visitor. Rather than ride them, these Men let their horses race untouched by humans as they gloriously gallop over the plains between the Entwash and the Anduin, using only their unerring homing instincts to lead them back to their masters. Spectators along the way either shout encouragement to their favorite nags, or try to confuse opponents' steeds by asking them questions about their ancestry. But no one can talk to a horse, of course, unless of course that talking horse is the famous--well, never mind.
Occasionally the Rohirrim also play a game similar to polo, though the riders don't employ mallets; for the horses themselves are the ones that actually strike the ball, which is usually the freshly-hewn head of an Orc.
Snowmen of Forochel
The Lossoth are the only community of Men who regularly engage in winter sports, though few are seen by anyone from more southern climes, for few have good reason to subject themselves to the frigid conditions to which the Lossoth have acclimated themselves; and if even if you do make the difficult journey over the Lune Mountains, you will be lucky if you don't wind up eating your shoe leather to survive.
But let's say your party experiences excellent weather and arrives at the Cape of Forochel in good shape, and the Lossoth are convinced that you are not a war party sent to punish them by the Witch-king, and you just happen to go at a time when they engage in their winter sports. In which case you will be treated to amazing sights: glittering palaces made entirely of ice, soaring into the sky; footraces on frozen lakes by Men who have developed bones in their feet that keep them from slipping; sled races in enormous sleds pulled by Northern Wolves; and a kind of rodeo played with polar bears will keep you entertained for hours. But it's all over in a single day and night, and when you awake the next morning, huddling for warmth in your modest ice-tent (DON'T call them igloos!), it will all seem like a dream; and you wonder, as you pack your possessions for the arduous journey south, what kind of mushrooms DID that guy dressed up in fancy feathers and bones and stuff give you to eat last night?
This urge can be seen in the large variety of ways they play their favorite sport, Wickybottom. Legend has it that it is also their oldest sport, having supposedly originated shortly after the last battle of Fornost, when Hobbit bowmen returned from the North with a game that they picked up from the Dúnedain (though this is a matter of some dispute; others insist that it was invented long after the Days of Dearth, when times were once again good and young Hobbits had to find something to keep them from going crazy with boredom). There is good evidence to suggest that the original striker nets, the constantly-modified implements used to hit or catch the ball (if indeed a ball is used; some varieties of Wickybottom use dried gourds, sticks, or even small stones, though these varieties tend to be played more often by Hobbits of Stoor extraction), were originally what Hobbits call "mathoms," in this case weapons used in ancient times that were mostly gathering dust while hanging on the walls of seldom-used guest rooms in the burrows of the well-to-do Hobbits in Tuckborough and Tookbank. Such weapons were not wielded in anger, of course, though a few unfortunate mishaps necessitated changes in the striker nets, mostly having to do with dulling the blade or removing sharp edges and/or spikes, so that the game could take on a more genteel character . In the course of making such modifications, certain clever Hobbits discovered that they could improve the efficacy of both the catching and striking functions of the implements, thus leading to a constant evolution in the tools of the game, as first Tooks, then rival Brandybucks, and even Hobbits from Bree took the lead in the competition. Were it not for the need for baskets, Bree would have probably taken the lead permanently, but basketweavers from Buckland (with a little help from Bombadil himself, apparently) helped level the playing field with their ingenious "false trap" designs that unwary Bree Hobbits still have difficulty fathoming.
The game itself has taken many forms, but certain strategic elements have remained constant over the thousand-odd years of its life. Probably most important is the placement of the baskets: too low ground makes them an easy mark, whereas too high leads to discouragingly infrequent scores. The quality of the ground on which they rest is another factor, and some Hobbit teams, especially those coached by old Bratty Willowhook, have been accused of watering down the area surrounding the baskets to encourage the practice of "frogging," or sinking the baskets so low in the ground that the trap portion is exceedingly difficult to distinguish from the under portion, or vica versa. To counter this, some Bree players have been known to send their Jammies out on an early Boonthrow in an effort to wrest baskets from the Boggishbilly.
The other main strategic element is player placement. Wickybottom recognizes 113 player positions, the primary ones of which are Boggishbilly, Hotspaw, Fieldbanger, Struttish End, Clever Pully, Leg-a-dilly, Crunchpickle, Baffle Buck On, Banterwaggle, Smidgeon-on-a-curl, and Sloglark. Since only seven (or, in some cases, seventeen, or in others twelve) players can play at a time, this leads to a constant stream of decision-making on the players' parts on which positions they should take up. Since each position change necessitates its being recorded by the official Game Scribe, a good part of the contest is spent waiting, and waiting leads to chatting, and chatting leads to having a bite or a pint or two, and by then everyone's forgotten where they're supposed to be. A stranger to the Shire might indeed wonder if a game is being played at all, and leave just as a goal is about to be attempted, thus missing the most exciting part: the digging of the furrow-hole, that passage that the ball (or dried gourd, etc.) has to make before it can legally be played for a score.
Some words of advice for those who wish to take in a game of Wickybottom. Don't even try to understand the rules. If you can, sample some of Belladonna's Wild Mushroom Cups and a bowl of Old Toby. Hobbit sports may not be overly exciting, but they are decidedly civilized: if you stick it out all the way to the eventual victory celebration, you won't see the freshly-hewn head of an Orc.
While Orcs no longer participate in organized sports in Eriador or Gondor, there are rumors that in Mordor they do take part in cruel contests organized by the Dark Lord for the amusement of himself and the Nazgûl. That these feature unspeakably barbaric acts of hideous evil and soulless corruption need not be even be said; so horrible are these games that even the victors have been found in screes at the foot of higher cliffs in the Ephel Dúath, their bodies broken by suicidal falls, as they have taken the only way out to end the monstrous dreams engendered by the nightmarish ways they have achieved victory. Tourists, naturally, are discouraged from visiting Mordor with the intent of witnessing these games live; however, if you must, live pay-per-view Palantír broadcasts are available for the very wealthy and depraved.
Theophrastus Bombastus von Wimsicus
Middle-earth Adventures, Ink.