Dad and Other Early Inspiration…
My name’s Simon and I play darts!
I’m not famous and I’ve never won anything significant (in the grand scheme of things), however, I have been enjoying darts for a while now – since 1986, when I was fourteen in fact.
My dad has been playing for as long as I can remember – I’m told he was quite handy in his day, though he’s never bigged himself up, other than when it comes to being a captain perhaps, but more of that another time.
I used to sit and watch him practice in our kitchen, smelling of Brylcreem (dad, not me!) before leaving to play in some exotic location like Boscombe, or Winton maybe. Little did I realise at the time, that my darts journey would also take me to these (not so) faraway places.
When I was about ten, I’d be allowed to place the dartboard on the floor, leaning up against the wall – I’d kneel down a couple of feet away and throw Dads spare darts at it. When I think about it now, that was pretty risky from a Health & Safety point of view in the event of a bounce-out – I guess that was preferable to the risk of sticking darts in walls, doors and skirting boards!
My mate, Adrian, was allowed a board up in his house (he was a couple of years older than me). It was on the wall in the inside-shed.
The inside-shed was a strange concept that never really caught on – a bare brick room inside the house for whatever stuff you didn’t want knocking around in the rest of the house – including spiders and draughts.
Anyway, back then I used to throw at nineteens as I was too short to reach the twenties properly – I’m six-foot four now though, so not really a problem anymore. I can remember hitting 171 (like a 180, but on the 19’s) and not being able to wait to get home (just a few doors down) to tell Dad – it’s stuff like that, that even now, keeps me coming back for more.
If you’ve enjoyed Darts, Dad and Brylcreem, please leave a comment below – it’s nice to know that people have read my posts.