Friday night darts just really isn’t what it used to be. To me it really used to be the start of the weekend. It was all about lads and arrows, going on it indulging a few pints at the end of the week I’m celebrating the start of the weekend. Now is the graded into nothing more than a burden and an obligation hanging over my head every Friday.
So this Friday just gone I told the team captain that there was no point in me turning up next week simply to get picked over eight nil by the top team in the league. Well, you might as well have said I tried to rape his girlfriend.
Don’t get me wrong this isn’t the case of sour grapes and not wanting to play a team that’s better than me. Yes, yes I am aware you should always step up to the challenge and all that. But to give you an idea these are the sort of players that can win a game of 501 in 12 darts. For me I’m lucky if I can do it in about 25. Its the equivalent of being able to land a lucky punch when stepping into the ring with Floyd Mayweather.
Now also take into account that on Friday I drive about 100 miles over the course of the day. So when I go out I want to have a little bit of fun or at least not feel that I’m obliged to just “be there”
I’m even gone so far as to tell the other team that I don’t mean any disrespect that you guys are obviously are in a different league quite literally to us so I don’t see the point of wasting the time and energy needed to turn up, play for about seven minutes, and then that’s the end of the night.
Somehow nobody seems to understand or appreciate this which in turn is even more frustrating.
Each away game usually involves me driving our team to the pub, waiting for my game, and then driving them all back home. Does anybody even bother to say thank you? No.
I might get the occasional pint bought for me from the team captain but then he also buys the rest of the team a drink just not exactly thank you for once again my time, my fuel and my car.
It’s quite obvious that they play on the points that as I have to already Drive 12 miles to my nearest local that I need well drive into time. Which I don’t mind or I wouldn’t mind if there was a little bit more, thank you and the appreciation of doing what I do. Yet people are all too ready to kick off when I run late or I don’t turn up as to then it’s a huge inconvenience.
Ultimately it’s not what it used to be.
You can almost liken the game to a funeral procession. You walk up, play your games, have a drink, and then go home all in a very procedural fashion. Back in the “good old days” the team Houston rally around each other and get stuck in. Now everybody is off having a fag or playing on the gambler.
I will admit that this afternoon does have some sour grapes for me. I’m dog babysitting today and I was hoping to get to the pub just to enjoy an afternoon drink and play a few games of darts.
Instead at 5:30 I’m waiting for the dogs to come and pick them up and by then they’ll be little point in venturing outwards.
In of these there is apparently another staff party but this time in a mighty location of Haverford West. If you read this blog before you know that the last party I went to in time didn’t end up so good for me. This time around though I’ve asked Sasha (before you ask yes she does have a boyfriend) to say she can be my wing man for the night and oddly enough she’s agreed.