WRITE UP FOR WEEK #14: THE FAT LADY SINGS AT GK

Special write-up by Cuppa Joe. Final Note by Captain Furious.

After losing all 3 of my singles 501 games in the first round, I, Cuppa, did something very uncharacteristic. Like a Major League Baseball player on the cream or the clear, I took all 3 of my darts in one hand and threw them wildly into the corner seating area at George Keeley.
(again...let me stress: this was an aberration)

In my surprisingly uncontrollable and blind rage, I didn’t see that one of my fellow Dartbags, Colin “the Microwave” O’Donnel, had just arrived and was innocently putting his stuff down in that area, which was, moments earlier, completely empty. Well, let’s just say one of my 18g Bob Anderson’s attempted to ‘double-out’ on his forearm, but bounced-out (thank God it wasn’t a movable point). Not even stopping to acknowledge, I continued over into that corner area, picked up my other 2 darts from the floor, and fired them into the wall, burying them in the wood paneling (if you’re reading this, Chris, you can’t even notice).

I turned around, and I saw the shocked and horrified look on Colin’s face: “You hit me with your dart!?”, he said. With my head now bulging to 1.5 times it's normal size, and my back full of acne, I walked over, put my hand on his back and said, “Guy.”

Now, in most instances, “Guy” works. “Guy” is universal. “Guy” is multi-functional. But, in this case, “Guy” just wasn’t good enough. But, guy...I was effing pissed off. So I went outside, and did to myself what my brother does to my 4 year old nephew, Michael: I gave myself timeout.

Normally, I am, to the point of pissing off some of my teammates, Mr. Positive. I’m infamous for dropping the standard phrase of encouragement: “There’s always next dart, guy.” “It ain’t over ‘til its over.” “You’re right on it, guy.” “I’ll give you a ‘26'.” Well...some of them aren’t exactly ‘standard’, but you get the point. When it comes to actually throwing these things, getting pissed off and down on yourself doesn’t do a lick of good....at least to this guy.

But this ‘roid rage moment, sponsored by Kevin Brown, Jason Giambi, Gary Sheffield and Jim Leyritz, had nothing to do with my dart play. It was the way the night went down.

I actually thought I was somewhat ‘on’, counting down at a pretty good clip, hitting about 400 asp’s along the way (not ‘Tony Roman’ darts, but I’ll take it). I couldn’t double the side of a brick wall, and generously gave all 3 games away on a silver platter, but, whatever....it’s never worth losing my cool over it. It’s (usually) about giving your best shot, and playing (again...usually) a sportsmanlike, fun, yet competitive game against your (did I say ‘usually’) sportsmanlike opponent...............but I digress.......

(To use a sickeningly over-used phrase that makes me want to bludgeon people to death when they say it) “Having said that”, (grrrrrr) we, the Dartbags, the Most Drinkin’est and Friendliest dart team in the NYDO TM, always make it a point to enter our weekly match wearing our mantra on our collective sleeve. It works. Whether we were beating teams down, burning through the C and B leagues, or when we came into A, and got our asses handed to us (see last year against the Fockers, for the love of God), our attitude is normally infectious. We always seemed to achieve our goal of having an all-around drinkin’ and friendly match with the other guys on dart-night.

This blog, for example, is not just our way of archiving the chronicles of the Dartbags, but knowing that (pleasantly surprisingly) most of our opponents read the blog as well, it’s a great place to give props to our opponent every week...(crickets)

...anyway, with one of our heavy hitter’s, Vincenzo, aka “The Hornet’s Nest”, on his honeymoon in Fiji with beautiful wife Jane, and with another stalwart competitor, “BFT”, Big-Friendly-Tim Sheahan in “definitely-not-Fiji” Minneapolis (poor guy), the Dartbags entered into this final week’s match severely short-handed. Colin, and Marty, aka “Farticus”, were nowhere to be found either, leaving Cuppa Joe, Glenn Pike, aka “IYH”, aka “the Dartbag Alpha-Male” and “Captain Furious” Frank Murtha, alone to start the match, not knowing if the 3 of them would have to go it alone.

This, by the way, prompted Cuppa to ponder calling BFT, tell him to find some Minneapolis pub with a dart-board, so we can possibly phone-in his darts.

Regardless of whether or not this is against regulations, or just plain retarded....as we all know, Colin did finally show up shortly after the 3rd round of singles 501....ahem. Marty later rolled in, unannounced and fresh from the gym, looking for a game commode, and much needed nutrition in the form of ‘number 9', or anything else that would qualify adding to his George Keeley beer log.

A brief appearance by veteran Dartbaguette, Hope, and the late addition of Lillian, along with her friends Amy and Grace, rounded out the otherwise light support system for the final week. Jessie stopped by for exactly 90 seconds to scoop-uppa Cuppa, who was ready to bolt, pronto.

Frank filled out the lineup:

Glenn Pike
Frank Murtha
Cuppa Joe Gasparino
???

This time, Frank filled out the lineup on the correct side of the scoresheet, although, originally, he began to fill out the starting lineup on a Tuesday night scoresheet. More scoresheet follies for the captain. Its been a long season, my friend. You need a vacation.

Here’s what happened:

Glenn went up first. He’s been battling through a broken thumb injury and tendenitis in his dart-throwing hand all season. As frustrating as it has been, being reduced to throwing his 20% game, give him HUGE props for showing up every week. Most guys who would go from being the reigning A2 MVP, to physically not being able to perform to that level, would not be able to handle it. Thanks for stickin’ it through. Chill out with that hand, guy....except golf (when are we playin' next, chief?).

With only one ‘dart-drop’ (which had happened consistently all season long) Glenn found some of his old darts, starting the night off with a ton-20. A couple of turns later, he cranked another ton-20. This was lookin’ like the IYH we've become accustomed to. NOTE: both ton-20's were achieved the same way: first dart - trip20, second dart - trip20......third dart - off the board. The tendenitis had unfortunately caused a case of ‘third-dartitis’, which is usually caused by having your head up your hole. This, however, was purely physical.

All three games were close, but Glenn could only nail one down with a nice-out, shmackin’ 537 all-star points along the way. Best darts for that dawg all season.

Note: I don't know about y'all, (yeah...that's right..."y'all"), but playing with 'Bizarro Glenn' this season was freakin' weird, man.

That's all. Nothing more to that note. Just, it was weird. You know...like something that you're not normally used to seeing. Something different. Something a bit strange.

Ok....‘Bags down 1-2.

Next up was ‘el capitan’, Frank. He was coming off of his best week of this season, last Monday night against Who Darted?. Frank was en fuego, and he hoped to carry that over.

None of these games were particularly stellar. Cpt. Furious did end up taking 2 out of 3 to tie the match up, 3-3. Frank hit a ton and a ton-02 (wacky) in the process, which is considerably below the average asp’s he usually racks up in singles 501, but taking 2 at this point was pretty yooge. Well done, guy.

‘Bags tied 3-3.

Cuppa Joe was next. We all know what happened. It resulted in near bodily harm. Despite timely 95's, ton-14's and ton-33's, Cuppa covered them in wrapping paper, placed neatly tied red bows around them, and handed them over. Merry Christmas.

‘Bags down 3-6.

Colin “the Microwave” O’Donnel shrugged off his brush with death-by-dart, and hit clean-up. COD hadn’t played a game in months, but you can never count this gutty bastard out. He has a knack for the dramatic, and with ol’rusty...one never knows. The last time he played, he had a longer lay-off, walked into the Gaf East and proceeded to single handedly snatch 2 games from the jaws of defeat in doubles 501.

The Microwave could only raise his level to 'defrost', however, but managed to snag one victory in the second game in dramatic fashion. Out of nowhere, Colin quietly counted his way down, spotted a tiny crack in the back door, and on his last dart, pulled out ol’rusty, and sunk a double-6, breakin' on through like a true back-door man. He quickly morphed from Jim Morrison into Bruce Jenner, hopping into the air (1/4" vertical) pumping both fists skyward. Nice job, COD (and sorry for the aberrative, angry-ass, crotchety dart).

So...after singles 501, the ‘Bags were down 4-8.

Actually....to be honest, I’m done. I just finished typing out the game by game recap for singles, and I lost interest. We lost 17-7....final score. There it is. Finito. Le-chaim...salud.

This wasn’t our worst loss of the season, in fact, I believe we lost 2 matches in a row, 17-7, earlier this spring. I don’t feel like looking it up, but you get the idea. We got our asses kicked, those nights, but we still ripped it up with the other guys and had a blast.

Dart-night is, nearly without fail, johnny-good-times. In this case, there’s really nothing to report. I think that’s a first, for the Dartbag blog. I couldn’t even tell you who we played....and the absence of the ‘end-of-the-match’ handshake was particularly sporting....way to go, fellas. Good darts!

More importantly, in the interest of Farty and Colin, however, I’d like to give them some ridicu-props for steppin’ up when the ‘bags needed them to, despite not seeing much playing time all season. COD hit a 99 in doubles 501, and I know that Farty doubled in to get him and El Capitano a good start in one of their games. Very decent. We’ll relive some more moments over a million pitchers and some BBQ at “Dartbagapalooza: Summer ‘06", if we can ever settle on a time and place. How many dartbags does it take to.....aahhh, I'll give you 'how many dartbags does it take to'.

Now give us the final word, captain.....I’m tired of typing this damned thing:
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Thank you, Cup. Good stuff as always. I beg to differ in one respect...this WAS our worst loss of the season. We've been beaten 17-7 before... but never by a last place team. (I can't believe we traded places with those guys at the end of the night. Ugh.) But that page has been turned. And the night did provide some highlights. Colin's Bruce Jenner impression was priceless, and all the more humorous when one considers it is done noiselessly and with a simultaneous bunny hop. And Marty came through with important darts that helped end the season on a winning note. If he hadn't doubled in, we'd have almost certainly lost 18-6, which would have definitely been the worst loss of the season. (CAPTAIN'S NOTE: When did Bruce Jenner, the "Greatest Athlete in the World" turn into Bruce Jenner, "The Greatest Female Athlete in the World"? Seriously? How did that happen? Repeated long term exposure to Wheaties? Did an errant shotput hit an old gypsy woman who cursed him with a hormonal imbalance? WTF? Spooky).

So the fat lady sang at the GK. Then she came out. Took a bow. And sang Carly Simon's You're So Vain for an encore just to drive the point home. Shorthanded and bitchslapped. Not the way we wanted to go out. But then again, not an inappropriate ending for a season when things just didn't come together for the Good Guys of George Keeley.

The adjustment to Mondays was a little harder than we expected. Coming in, I thought we had a good shot to win the subdivision. And, though this season was a flop, I still maintain we had the pedigree to back up that statement. But to be blunt; we just sucked. We also missed Lou and RJ a lot. Not just for their ability at darts, but for their ability to make the night more fun with their comical (intentional and unintentional) shennanigans. But they had other, more imprtant responsibilities. For RJ, that responsibility goes by the name of Lauren. And for Louis, that responsibility is called Anna.

(DARTBAG 2025 Update: Louis has purchased a set of sharp new 26 gram Grim Sages for Anna, which he duly places in her crib every night along with her favorite teddy bear in order to speed up her development. Way to go, Lou! RJ, more sensibly, has purchased fluffy NERF darts for Lauren which yielded the unexpected benefit of producing her very first words. Upon dropping one of the darts between the bars of her crib, she tilted her head backwards, closed her little eyes and proclaimed... "That is NOT ACCEPTABLE!!!". Must have been quite a shock to hear it over the intercom.

Great work, guys. We'll see you soon.

I want to thank everyone who made it out to support us and the local economy by drinking with us. Our Dartbag family grew in number not only through birth, but through increased attendance by Lillian, Gins and Gemma along with Jess and Nell. Hope was a stalwart as always. Even in defeat, let it be known that if you judge a man, by the company he keeps.... then we look gooooood. And we did continue our assault on the Beer Club as well as society's definition of decency and moderation. So we can take heart from that. I know I do.

We will gird up our loins and seek to do better next season. (That's right. We're loin-girders.) Beers will be drunk. Darts will be thrown. Laughs will be had. And football will be watched! (Don't forget it's MNF season). To all our friends for being there and making Monday nights more fun, thank you and God bless you.

We'll see you next season, ladies and gents. Steakbag Night (TM) is looking like Del Frisco's...

That is all.

-Capt. Furious