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Me And My Big Mouth.

After playing for my old team for about 30 years the new captain persuaded the team to vote to throw me out, so I signed up for another team this season which plays a lot closer to home. The first week of the new season we were supposed to play my old team so I chickened out and did not turn up. This week we were short of players, so a couple of players brought their girlfriends to make up the numbers. When one of the young ladies was told the games were over 3 legs she was a bit shocked as she said she only ever played one leg games before in the ladies leagues. I, being the chauvinist that I am, rightly said that men’s games were a bit quicker and that the match should still be over soon after 10 pm even though it would be a lot more legs than the ladies played. Saying this I remembered a game some years ago when the opposing team wanted to reverse the match because they wanted to be at home to watch the football on their big screen TV, but being the sportsmen that my team were, they decided to stick to the fixtures and insisted on playing the match as it had been arranged. Needless to say the opponents weren’t very happy when they arrived.

They came in a minibus as they always did so they could have a drink and enjoy the night. The driver was booked to return later at a prearranged time.

However it was a very poor match and we hadn’t finished all the games when the mini-bus returned for them. The driver waited a little while as it was a regular booking, then he got a call for an airport run and we were still nowhere near finishing so he had to go. Eventually the match finished around 11pm and the opposing team were even less happy then, because they had lost as well. They tried to call another new minibus, but of course it was chucking out time in the pubs and they had got no chance.

We finished the sandwiches and left the pub for home at about 11.30 pm and they were still trying to call a mini bus. The night had not gone well for them, but it just goes to show that even with a couple of decent teams the games are unpredictable and it is possible for everyone to play crap, and then matches go on for ever.

Anyway, back to the match. Of course I was tempting fate saying how much better male players were than women and I should have kept mouth shut. In the first leg I nearly got the brush. The second wasn’t quite so bad and I managed a win. By the time the third and deciding leg started I thought I had woken up a bit. A 120 break, followed by a treble twenty and then down the bottom for an odd treble 17. I don’t know why because it was totally the wrong shot and anyway I missed it hitting a single. Then another treble twenty looked good hitting a score of 137 and I hadn’t got a clue what was left. It was of course 44, so a nice little 12 left 32. Of course after about another 12 or 15 darts I still couldn’t finish and lost yet again. The lads in the new team still don’t know what to make of me. I lost the same way last week as well. I was on for a 161 finish to make a 9 darter. 80 break followed up by 60. My third throw I hit 60 and 51 to leave the bull. Before my game I had again been opening my mouth to another player about how I never go for the Bull if at all avoidable because I never hit it. Of course I didn’t this time either and hit the 25. Needless to say the other lad came down while I was messing about and dropped in his finishing double. Perhaps I will learn to keep my gob shut before my match one day and then maybe I'll hit something and win.