On the campus of UC Davis in Northern California in the early 1980s, if you picked up the scent of patchouli (an earthy, pungent perfume or oil) anywhere on campus, and heard “Jack Straw” by the Grateful Dead on a battery-operated boom box, you knew a hacky sack was sure to be nearby.
Fast-forward 45 years to the upcoming school year, and as you drive or walk past any Rye school – or just about any school in the country, from middle school to college – you’ll likely find groups of students standing in circles of five or eight or more, kicking around a new hacky sack.
As hard as it may be to believe, just last spring as school wound down, the sack came screaming back into the American mainstream.
With school out for the summer, Rye’s newfound hacky sackers have been free to circle up, kick, and juggle to their heart’s content. But last spring – during the time of year usually marked by senioritis, Regents, and other year-end exams – the schools sent a friendly reminder to keep the hobby under control.
“We’ve loved seeing more students getting active and social during community lunch, and that hacky sack has made a big comeback!” Rye High School Assistant Principal Cody Blume wrote in a May message to students. He asked that hacky sack be played outdoors and during free periods, not in classrooms and hallways.
“Let’s keep this fun activity going by being respectful of learning spaces and following these guidelines.”
It’s the type of email one may have expected to receive, well, before email existed.
Greyson Herdman, president of World Footbag in Steamboat Springs, Colo., said his entire world, and the sport itself, changed on a dime in April.
“Social media,” Herdman said. “The game absolutely blew up, literally overnight on April 21, 2026. Young people started posting videos of their ‘hack of the day’ and it was like a wildfire.”
Herdman’s company is one of the oldest and largest suppliers of the little pellet-filled sacks in the country. “Foot bag” is the generic term. “Hacky sack,” though a household name, is a trademarked brand of foot bags. It’s what Kleenex is to facial tissue; what Frisbee is to flying discs.
Foot bag itself is simple. Typically played in a circle of any size, the goal is to keep a small, pellet-filled sack aloft for as long as possible by kicking. That’s pretty much it. No login or password required. For about $10 a sack, you’re on your way.
But good luck finding one.
“Within two weeks of that night,” Herdman said, “our standard supply of inventory – which would normally last us a year – was sold out. Our business is nuts right now.”
Rye High School’s baseball team got in before the hobby was cool again. The Garnets played hacky sack before their games to relieve stress and bond as a team. The results speak for themselves: the team won section championships each of the last two seasons.
Unlike baseball, which is filled with rules, both written and unwritten, there are only two to follow in hacky sack, which has no points, no winners, and no losers:
- You can’t serve to yourself.
- If you make a mistake – which is unavoidable – you’re not allowed to say, “Sorry!”
Creativity and free styling are highly encouraged. And in the unwritten code of sack, anyone is eligible to join a circle at any time. Essentially, if you hack, then you are my friend.
“The game itself is inclusive,” Herdman said. “Foot bag is played in a circle, and each toss is an invitation. Parents who played in high school or college are playing again, but now with their kids. We don’t know how long this generational shift we’re living through right now will last, but it has likely changed the foot bag industry forever.”
So, the next time you see some sack being played somewhere in Rye, stop your car, put down your phone, approach the circle and say, “Mind if I hack in?”
You’ll be glad you did.
