How I Got Into Darts: Chapter 4: My First Tournament (and it went badly)

Tournament Low’s (and not John)

I started the New Year 2014 off in the dog-house. I had elected to drink Xmas day with my Brother-in-law and to be honest I overdid it.  I behaved like I had been possessed by the ghost of Oliver Reed and after a few loosening beers decided to test the levels of human alcohol tolerance.

We had set up a darts board for a family throw about, however i got carried away.  I was throwing back lagers like water before him and I moved onto the spirits as the family (foolishly left us to our own devices) This basically saw me spend about 9 hours playing darts in his (cold) conservatory whilst my wife became increasingly more irate and we were dragged in to play pictionary.  Unfortunately the move from cold conservatory to roasting hot living room was a mistake and a quick inspection from the wife quickly revealed that we had consumed 1 x 1.5 litre bottle of vodka, 1 x 1.5 litre bottle of Glenlivet scotch, 24 bottles of staropramen lager and eaten a kilogram of Mexican fire cheese. 

The results were spectacular. I will admit it now I was a complete arsehole for behaving this way. Within an hour of being brought into the living room, we had both managed to be an utter nuisance during Pictionary (during which time I had apparently drawn a picture of a uterus instead of a pirate ship??)  and then I left to go to the kitchen and was found slumped head first in the kitchen sink being sick. Given how much I had unloaded the wife made the mistake of moving me into the kids playroom and resting me on the sofa to ‘sleep it off’. Big mistake I exploded yet again and was then dragged to the bathroom where I proceeded to be sick in the bath and sink. I remember none of this except awaking at 5am, and feeling like I was going to die.

As you can I was not flavour of the month after this. In 1 night I had managed to turn my wife off of darts, ruin xmas night and ruin several rooms in my sister in laws house ( I did pay for all the carpets to be professionally cleaned, and bought her a big bunch of flowers as an apology)

It was probably a bad idea then a day later when still feeling terrible, and also being a complete novice (4 months playing)  for me to enter my first tournament for the PDS, called ‘triplication’.

This was a nightmare experience of epic proportions, as a combination of nerves, lack of practice, quality of opposition (1 off to Q school, a few ex BDO’s and ¾ the County line-up), some dubious “ahem”  chalking and the unfriendly nature of the locals (it was like something out of a film!, my stepson and I walked in and the place just looked at us, and it took 3 hours for someone to speak to us) saw me lose 6 matches and win just one leg out of 13. The writing was on the wall before I even threw a competitive dart. I was sat their watching the players warm up and they were averaging about 140, and I suddenly had the realisation I was out of my depth. It was like watching the PDC top 10 warm up. These guys were serious. I thought I was going to a friendly darts tournament when in fact I’d stepped into something far more serious. These players were hardcore fueled off the back of the recent PDC world championships!  I started to warm up and literally I couldn’t get above 26. My scoring non-existent, I decided to get my ‘eye’ in aiming for bull. Honestly I was closer to the floor or the door than the bull.   I may as well have been chucking traffic cones at the board!!!! To make matters worse I couldn’t have a drink (had driven to venue due to location) and in my group I drew 2 top county players and the county youth champion.

I could see that people were looking at me (literally the only non-regular there) and thinking that I was either  a) utter shite or b) deliberately throwing bad to appear worse than I was (a ringer).

It was then my turn to step and throw for the bull. Now given my mental state at this point I would have thought  it more likely that I’d hit the skirting board or the chalker  however I stepped up and threw a perfect bull. No joke it went right in the centre.  My opponent looked at me with a “26 in practice, yeah right” look on his face. On reflection this was probably the worst thing I could do as instantly my opponent thought “hello, he can play” and decided to switch on his ‘A’ game. I then proceeded to have the biggest mare of a start ever.

I stepped up and with my heart beating like I was going to have a heart attack I seemed to lose all motor skills and co-ordination as my beautiful Winmau testaments turned into pumpkins in my hands and I lost all throwing control. Seriously I could barely stand upright, I must have looked like a total mentalist.  I then  proceeded to hit above d20 and have 2 bounce out of t20 scoring 0, to stunned observation, which wasn’t helped at all by the chalker exclaiming “zero??????” which of course drew everyone’s attention. No joke I would probably had thrown better wearing boxing gloves.

 I felt sick! Seriously I could have dropped my darts and emptied out there and then. It felt like Phil Taylor had run in and penalty kicked me right in the nuts!

My opponent then went on to score 140 and after that I never recovered as I suffered a right drubbing. He ‘done’ me in minutes with 18 dart and 16 dart legs.  With that said it can and does happen. The great Eric Bristow lost his first world championship match and kicked off with a score of 1 (2 bounce outs) in the 70’s.

Surprisingly despite being as deflated a 10 year old balloon, in my next game I took on the county youth player and actually had a great session winning the first leg (d16) before I dropped the next 2 legs closely.  I was mentally fucked, embarrassed and not enjoying it one little bit. What was supposed to be abit of fun, had turned into an utter public humiliation. And to think I thought I could do well here!

 My hands were sweating, I was sweating profusely, and I just waited disconsolately to be called for my next ‘hammering’.

 My third game was a write off. I can’t even remember it exactly as I think I’ve subconsciously tried to block it out. I recall that I felt like Mr Butterfingers as my hands were so sweaty that I could barely grip the things despite their aggressive grip, and my flights kept falling out. All I can remember is that I kicked off with 60 and that was the highlight!  I think my opponent’s lowest checkout was 134 or something like that. At this point my 26g darts felt like they weighed 26kg each. To further add to my misery as the ‘loser again I had to chalk and one of the players had, had a go at me for being slow (I did say it was my first time) and blamed me for breaking his rhythm!

Hang on a minute I’d lost 3 right! I can go home?, not on your nelly. Yep it wasn’t bad enough I’d got trounced in 3 consecutive matches because now I had the pleasure of entering the ‘losers’ group. Or the Hampshire County ‘B’ team as it should have been called. These guys were still miles better than me and this is when the ‘dubious’ chalking kicked in. I was playing a young lad who was highly regarded and my stepson noticed that my scores weren’t exactly adding up. I looked to be ahead in the first match by some way but he was ahead by 47 despite only hitting 30’s.  Unfortunately this was not the venue to raise ‘concerns’ (it made the pub out of ‘shameless’ seem like Disneyland . There were holes in the ceiling with water coming in and allsorts) and I had to let it go. Deflated I dropped that game and then got whitewashed in my next 2 as my heart wasn’t in it. I do remember suffering 2 150+ checkouts against me, however the hammerings were mercifully quick.

I finished stone dead bottom in what was probably the worst performance anyone has had at a PDS tournament by miles. On this day I swear Stevie Wonder could have turned up and done better!

On reflection entering it was a silly move. Here I was, a novice darts player entering a tournament with barely a 37 ave (p3d) after only 4 months of play. I had assumed (wrongly) that there would be a mix of skills which may give me some chance and my ambition betrayed my skill level.  There is nothing worse than finding yourself in a situation where you grimly become  aware that you are both totally and hilariously unprepared and out of your depth. It is a horrible combination and feeling and you are given 2 choices. Turn and run and probably never ever go back or at least try and make a go of it even if hopelessly outgunned.  I chose the latter and whilst  humiliatingly painful and embarrassing  it’s good to at least get the experience of these tournaments as down the line I’d only find myself in the same ‘unknown’ situation anyway.

Now I know that some would be disheartened by the experience however I did get respect in some quarters for braving it (by the organiser) when so early in my darting life and after licking my wounds took it for what it was/is a learning experience.