WRITE UP # 2: A GAFFE AT THE GAF

+CAPTAIN'S LOG: DART DATE: 3 - 27 - 06

Fresh off a successful A-2 debut, the Dartbags (Most Drinkin'est and Friendliest Team in NYC TM) rolled into the East Gaf to play some familiar faces (though, disappointly, no Tom Lally) as well as some new ones.

All active 'Bags were present except Marty who was listed as "doubtful" on the pre-game report.

As per usual, there was excellent female representation. No Lil, but a number of Dartbaguettes made the journey, including Hope, Nell, Jess and even a surprise appearance by BFT's little sister, Maureen.

Also not present was The Rallybone. Would that impact the Dartbag mojo? Only the Dart Gods can answer that question. But the more superstitious among us would say, "yes".

The 'Bags were already sitting in first place and a strong showing would likely keep them there. They sent Pike out against Kevin in match one. Sometimes you're just not on. This was one of those times. Glenn dropped the first two in Unpike-like fashion before pulling it together to take out a 15 (7, D-4) and salvaging a close third game to earn a point. 1-2.

Morale was low. And it wasn't just the darts. And it had something to do with the music. The jukebox was on shuffle mode. And by shuffle mode, I mean possessed by the spirit of a tone deaf 46 year old woman on her 4th glass of White Zin. It was reminescent of the "Carly Simon Incident" of '05 that saw our mojo fade faster than Shelley Long's movie career. Early signs of estrogen poisoning were already visible among the squad.

Colin asked if his pants, 'made him look fat.' Commenting on a tv commerical, Pike said that the new '06 Kia Sportage looked like it "had a lot of pep". And Vince attempted to order a "Strawberry Alleycat" from a horrified John, behind the bar.

Things were grim. We had to draw the line somewhere. And that line is the insufferable live version of Sheryl Crow's already insufferable "Leaving Las Vegas".

(And really, do we need a version of that song that's 12 minutes long? Seriously. It was like 12 freaking minutes!!! What am I missing here? Is this like her "Freebird"? Did all the chicks in the crowd break out lighters for this crap or something?? What the F*CK!?! I can just picture poor Lance Armstrong waiting off stage thinking, "I've won the most grueling bike race in the world 7 times. I survived testicular cancer. But if this doesn't stop in five minutes I'm riding my bike face first off the balcony.") 1-2

It was too much. We punched up Highway to Hell on the juke box and the effect was immediate. Cup, wearing his Angus Young, t-shirt responded with 2 wins off Brian, a very tough opponent, before dropping the third. Order was restored. 3-3

Tim played Harlan in the third set. BFT threw some solid darts and looked poised to take the first leg, before wire troubles got in the way. After that, Harlan heated up and started throwing crazy darts (including a T-71). Not too much you can do when you run into a buzz saw but tip your cap. Assuming you still have hands. After running into a buzz saw. (okay. moving on.) 3-6.

Frank and Andre renewed acquaintances for the final set. El Cap had a nice groove going taking the first, and dropping the second. Round 3 turned from a game of 501 to a game of "2". Frank hit the D-1 first to take the final leg. 5-7 headed into cricket. Things took a turn for the worse.

Pike and Vince squared off against Brian and Kevin in cricket. Vince threw some valiant darts (R4s and R5s), but it wasn't enough against the sharp Gaffers. We dropped 3 straight. Wow. 5-10

BFT: Where did they hide the Kryptonite?

Cuppa-Frank took up the mantle for the second round of cricket against Harlan and John. Cup had his stroke working and the Furious One was on his game. They took the first, dropped the second, before coasting to a victory in match 3. 7-11

First up in the final set was Pike'n Frank, facing off against Brian and Kevin. Kevin was throwing fine darts and by this point Brian had heated up as well. They took the first. Then they took a tight contest in the second. An in 'n out maneuver by Frank salvaged the third leg (and what was left of our pride) to make the score 8-13. Dang. We had clinched a loss.

We had originally slotted Colin to play in the doubles round. But he had to get back to his girl and was unable to play. The Gaffers graciously let us substitute Cuppa Joe. So Vincenz and Joey Pep would try to make the score respectable.

They faced Harlan and Jason. Harlan picked up right where he left off by starting the match with a Ton On. Vince and Cup would have their work cut out for them. But some 80+ rounds and hitting big darts kept them within striking distance. The 'Bags took the first, dropped number two, before Cup took out the final leg in a closely contested battle. Whew! We needed those clutch darts. We were out all-starred 839 to 221 in the doubles round, but timely hits gaves us a split. 10-14 sounds a hell of a lot better than 9-15. Not bad all things considered.

Fact is, we have yet to click so that all our players are on their games on the same night. The result has been some lacklustre outcomes. But it will begin to click before too long. And that means our best darts are ahead of us. We're going to need them next week. We play at George Keeley against McCarthy's, a tough squad who got us pretty good on Tuesday nights last season. Tip of the cap to the East Gaffers who were good hosts (always enjoy a shot of Jameson's) and the better team on Monday. We'll take it as a Monday learning experience.

Other things we learned:

Pike is in fact human, not a strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.

Andre (like Dartbags Cup, Marty, Lou and RJ) is a proud Tartan.

Harlan let's loose a "C'Maaawn!" following a big turn, when most people say that after a lousy turn.

AC/DC kicks the everloving crap out of Sheryl Crow.

We will look to add to our win total and to our beer club total on Monday. There is much work to be done on both fronts. See you at the GK.

That is all

-Captain Furious

All Star Recap: (It was a pretty light night)

Frank: 537
Cup: 228
Glenn: 216
Vince: 100
Tim: 95

WRITE UP #1: FIRING IT UP AT GEORGE KEELEY

CAPTAIN'S LOG: DART DATE: 3 - 20 - 06

With St. Patrick's Month still in full effect, the beloved Dartbags (Most Drinkin'est and Friendliest Dart Team in NYC - TM) headed back to George Keeley to continue their assault on the record books, their livers, and general decency. It was a mellower scene at George Keeley , what with most patrons recovering from the weekend's festivities and a slimmed down (in number, not waist size) crew of Dartbags.

Gone on paternity leave are beloved teammates Lou Henry and R.J. "The Surgeon" Morrow. However, thanks to the Dartbags Comprehensive Health and Family Benefits Package (D.C.H.F.B for short) they will continue to receive beer and darts at home until they are able to return to the force. Nonetheless, their departure meant moving from Tuesday (with a roster of 9) to Monday (and a roster of 7). Tonight, all active roster 'Bags were present except the enigmatic Colin "The Microwave" O'Donnell, who was engaged in a "black ops" raid on a drug cartel in an undisclosed Central American country. (Everyone needs a hobby.) Also absent were Hope (The Orignal Dartbaguette), Ginz, Nellie and Jess.

Present from the crew were Big Friendly Tim, Pike, Vince, Marty, Cup, Frank and Lillian.

The 'Bags would be taking on a heretofore unknown adversary, Tavern Revisited, from the Tempest Bar. They were an experienced crew and good guys to boot. Here's what happened...

Nietzschean Uberbag, Glenn Pike was running late. So Vince and Frank flipped a coin to see who would bat lead off. Vince won. He faced off against Mel Collazo, Met Super Fan and overall nice guy. Mel started the season out with... trip 19, trip 19, trip... 7. (T-35). And for that brief, fleeting moment, the thought of "What the hell did we get ourselves into?" flashed in our mind. But Vince responded with 85 of his own, banishing the thought. Game on! Good darts by both players saw Mel take the first. Vince respond strongly in game two with a crisp 8 rounder (FIRST BLOOD!). And a nail-biting rubber match went to the bad guys. 1-2

Frank squared off against big Joel. The Captain was sharp, on the triples all game and doubling out first dart. He took the first two quickly. In game 3, Frank narrowly missed taking out 97, before getting stuck on double 18s. That was all the chance Joel needed to come back steal the W. (Dang). 3-3.

Cuppa Joe went up against Scott in round 3. Cup made a point of touching the Rallybone before the match, but whatever the cause, he had his mojo working. On round 4 of game number one, Cup smacked trip 19, trip 19, trip 19... TON-71! Congrats to Cuppa Joe for a sick round and the first Dartbag patch of the season! He would continue to roll. His single bull on a cork shot almost took out 122, he racked up 4 additional all star rounds and completed a sweep. Nice darts. Guy. 6-3.

Batting clean up was Glenn who faced off against Basheer. Pike didn't bring his filthiest darts, but they could still be characterized as unclean. He took 3 more and the 'Bags were rolling. It was beginning to feel like old times at GK. 9-3, good guys.

Cup lost the coin toss and was going to sit cricket, but Frank liked the way Cup had been hitting bullseyes and called an audible at the line of scrimmage, benching himself instead. The move would pay off. Vince and Cup were sharp and took 3 more games! 12-3, 'Bags

Glenn and BFT took up the cause in the second pairing. They notched 2 more W's moving the streak to 11 straight points before dropping the final leg. 14-4.

By this point, we were feeling pretty good about our chances to earn a plaque this season. Not a dart plaque, necessarily, but a plaque for our other favorite activity -- drinking.

The Dartbags had earlier signed up for the "George Keeley Century Club", a new promotion. The membership requirement: Drink 100 different George Keeley beers. Once you become a member... you get your name on a plaque on the wall of fame. It was only fitting that Marty just happened to be wearing a gray t-shirt adorned only with the word "BEER" across the chest that night. Upon signing his pledge to attain drinking immortality he is reputed to have closed his eyes, nodded resolutely and said to himself... "This is my Everest".

There was a score sheet on which you marked down the brews you consumed and their countries of origin (which would play into the events of the evening later). And we are pleased to say there has already been considerable progress on that front -- perhaps too much progress as the final rounds would indicate. It also led to exchanges such as...

Vince (pointing to table after throwing a round): Did you mark it down?

Frank: All stars?

Vince: My Yuengling.
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Tim: Hey, where is Carlsberg from?

Frank: Denmark.

Tim: Damnit! I thought it was German. That's like wasting a beer slot.

Frank: Yeah, but at least you supported Denmark.

Tim: Screw Denmark.

The 'Bags have now covered the USA, and have made considerable headway into Germany. The "Carlsberg Incident" slowed Tim up some, but he will no doubt catch up soon enough.

But back to the second most important activity of the evening.

For round 3 the 'Bags sent Frank and Marty to the line. They dropped a close one to start, but Marty got the good guys in right away in game 2 and the 'Bags raced out to a lead. With Mel on 40, Frank sunk a double 20 with his third dart to even the match. In round 3, The Tavern jumped out to a big lead and a valiant charge came up short. 15-6.

It was at that point, when Frank caught on fire. I don't mean darts. I mean in reaching for the Drinking Club score sheet his J Crew roll neck sweater made contact with a candle and (unbeknownst to him for several seconds) and he LITERALLY caught on fire. Luckily he was patted down by alert teammates who knew better than to waste a beer dowsing the flames. (Though Tim may well have volunteered his Non-German Carlsberg if he still had it handy.) The only casualty was minor singeing that left his garment perfectly wearable, but smelling bizarrely like delicious chipotle peppers. (It what can only be considered the height of irony, Lillian had requested "Light It On Fire", by Cowboy Mouth (the greatest band in the world) on the jukebox just 5 minutes earlier.)

It also led to the most spontaneous bounty of comic fodder since the 1992 Academy Awards when Jack Palance stunned Billy Crystal by doing one armed push ups on stage. E.g.,

Lillian: Oh my God, you were on Fire!

Frank: Why... thank you.
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Tim: En Fuego, baby!
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Vince: I thought I smelled something burning... but, I figured it was Cup forming a thought.

Vince and Cup closed the final pairing by winning 1, and losing 2. A bit of a lacklustre finish in the final stages helped along by our old nemesis, Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA (9.0% abv, and as Lou had mentioned in an earlier write up... brewed by the devil himself.)

So be it. It was a good night with good darts thrown by all. Everyone notched victories and we left with a 16-8 win in our first Monday A league night. Next week we are playing at The Gaf with "Where's Cork?". Always a real challenge against that crew. Always a good time.

Line of the Night: Marty.

CENSORED: The Line -- passed to me on a bar napkin -- was as funny as it was unprintable.

Please see Farty for details.

All Stars and Props:

Frank: 732 (He was en fuego!)
Cup: 598 (Cuppa-bulls and a patch -- yaaaar!)
Pike: 547 (Manly darts and 5/6)
Vince: 233 (First blood and a cricket sweep)
Tim: ("Timiny Cricket" -the wins keep piling up)
Marety: (The Landlord of The "Dublin Inn")

FROM THE ARCHIVES: "BEST OF" WRITE UP, SEASON 3

A rant-filled, bile-fest from days gone by. The names have been removed to protect the henious.
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Need a shower... must scrub skin... ugh... wash off... stench of failure... still not clean.... oh, Lord... still... NOT... CLEAN!

How did it go last night? In the words of Bill S. Preston, Esq.: "Bogus... heinous... most untriumphant".

The 'Bags laid an egg last night and dropped an 11-7 contest. It marks the first time since the White Horse team beat us 28 weeks ago that we dropped a regular season match.

With a suprise appearance by Edna and the Hockeyheads, it should have been a night for raucous celebration and good cheer. And we did have a good time.

But losing... well, it just sucks.

Frank set the tone for the evening with a singles match that contained more yips than a Chelsea Chihuahua. But wins by Cup and RJ put us on track. Tim dropped his match. Glenn won his match. Marty re-enacted the 100 years war (unfortunately he was France) and it was 3-3 after the first period and seemed a ho-hum game.

Cricket, which used to be Our Game, has been substandard this season. Last night was unfortunately no exception. RJ and Cup split. Pike and Tim drew the best players from the other team. Slow out of the gate, they never recovered and dropped two. Frank and Lou threw uninspired darts and dropped their first before pulling it together and taking the finale. It all added up to a 4-2 period and a 7-5 score heading into doubles.

But with 6 points left to be had there was still time to salvage a respectable showing.

Didn't happen.

Colin and Frank started out with a split. Glenn and Cup split. Lou and RJ made a mega comeback and turned a nightmare game in to a nail-biter (NEVER SAY DIE!), but ended up dropping a pair. (Still, you hold your head up when you make a great comeback like that. It takes heart to do that.) But there's no getting around the fact the Dartbags lost to those old, annoying, humorless, bad-hair, bad teeth, Coors drinking f*ckwads.

In a word... F*CK.

You know what REALLY p*ssed me off? The fact that everytime Glenn threw ASPs and they went to write it down they were like... "Uh, good darts... What's your name?"

Huh? What's his name? Well, let's see... He's been here all night... he's introduced himself to everyone on your whole f*cking team (which is more than you guys did)... he's the only guy who actually is THROWING R-5s... he goes first so clearly you know he's the top name on the score sheet.... his name is Pike, Glenn F*cking Pike, you dumb old f*ck!! And stop pretending you don't f*cking know it! Those Coors Lights haven't killed ALL of your f*cking brain cells. I know you have enough gray matter left to voluntarily belch, sing along to Grand Funk Railroad songs, and complete your cheesy f*cking comb-over every morning!!! You don't have a problem doing that!!! I think you can remember ONE F*CKING NAME! And while you're remembering sh*t, here's something else for you to remember: Next time we play you f*ckwads, we're going to beat you like we caught you in bed with our sister! Got that, dipsh*t????

Motherf*cker, I can't tell you how much that p*ssed me off. And they knew who Pike was BEFORE the damn match. I heard some of them talking about him. They were just being coy.

Coy coots.

I'm getting angrier and angrier just thinking about it. F*CK. I only hope they make the playoffs. Because we owe them. We've played like crap against them twice now. They think they're better than we are. And they aren't.

F*CK!!!!!!

Okay.

Rage subsiding....

Pulse slowing...

Anger fading....

Captain Furious has left the building.

Where were we...

Six more weeks to go. We will certainly be out of first place after this week. But there is plenty of time to do what we need to do. We control our own destiny.

Marty, ever one to point to the positive side of things, noted that despite our substandard play our Dartbagness is still very much in tact. Though we dropped the match, we outlasted the old drunks on the other team as well as the hockeyheads at the bar. It's good to see some things haven't changed. Still the drinkin'est. Still the friendliest. (The ladies say we're the handsomest).... let's get back to being the winningest on Tuesday.

Come my friends, let us all swill the mouthwash of victory to remove the bitter taste of failure next week at Keeley's!

The opponent? Cue the Imperial March...

The Dart Vaders.

Time to regroup, fellas.

That is all.