"It's an addiction," says John O'Leary, a San Francisco construction worker who began playing darts since moving here from County Cork, Ireland, two years ago. He has recently started using the nicotine patch to quit smoking, so addiction is a theme he can work with. "When you start winning games, you start to feel like you're somebody. You get sick of losing. You watch good players, and you feel like playing 40 hours a week to get better. Chris is one of my motivations."
You tell stories to your family and friends about your usage, trying to put a positive spin on it, to justify your obsession. "I tried telling my friends and family that I play steel-tip darts," says Marina Furlan, a former Daly City cop. "You know, instead of just darts. It didn't really work."
Paolo Vescia
Alex Plachutin argues that when Chris White arrived, "everybody got better."
Paolo Vescia
Paolo Cleofe, center, gets his board assignment at the Eagles.
Related Content
More About
Jim Banta, president of the San Francisco Dart Association, tried to give the game a noble spin one night at the Blackthorn Tavern. As a father, he explained, he's found that darts is a wonderful way to teach math to kids. As he stepped away for a moment, his wife, Linda, smirked. "That's how he justified putting a dartboard in the living room," she said.
Patricia Miller played darts so much -- often five nights a week for over 30 years -- that it eventually helped lead to a shoulder injury. She could have quit playing; instead, she had surgery and adjusted her throwing style. "You meet good people, but it's the competition, really. That's why people play."
And while there is more competition now, fewer people are playing darts in the Bay Area than ever before. Fittingly, stricter DUI laws are cited as one reason. Lack of good money is another; darts tournaments in Vegas, Tahoe, and Sacramento had $10,000 purses 20 years ago, and they have $10,000 purses now, spread out over more competitions, thinning out winnings that were paltry enough to start with. Quality players are another issue; if you lack them, people stop coming, it stops being fun. You need a better fix. Whereas in the '80s heyday more than 200 people would play in the city on a regular basis, now only 70 or 80 serious players are coming in, Patricia Miller estimates. The SFDA used to host A, B, C and D leagues, but even filling out a boozier C league is tougher these days.
The SFDA's Jim Banta explains this change by pointing out two plaques at the Eagles. One is from 1994, listing nearly 20 Northern California darts leagues -- most of which have folded, he explains. "We're a smaller league now, but I think we're a better league," he says. "And [Chris White] is wonderful to have around for that. In a strong association, if you have a group of strong players, it all comes back." That leads to the second plaque he wants to show off. It lists 15 SFDA players who won a Northern California all-star tournament last year. White's name is at the top of the list.
"This team," says Banta, pointing. "I'd take this team right here anywhere in the country."
The Prince of Wales Pub in San Mateo, where Chris White began his Bay Area darts reign, sells something called the Habanero Hamburger. It also sells bumper stickers that say "I survived the Habanero Hamburger." On a chair in a corner, a mock tombstone reads "Reserved for Habanero Hamburger eaters."
"It's a hamburger with habaneros on it," the bartender explains.
As he makes a few practice throws, Chris White takes a moment to point to the ceiling rafters, where players write their names in chalk each time they hit a 180 score on the dartboard. Hitting the 180 -- three consecutive darts hitting the tiny triple-score sliver of the board's 20-point section -- is the apotheosis of dart-playing skill, more so than hitting the bull's-eye. But White's name is nowhere on the rafters. "Kinda silly if you ask me," he says. For somebody who's gone to British, American, and Canadian competitions -- where hitting the 180 is simply taken for granted -- names chalked on rafters are strictly B-league. But more people around here are throwing 180s these days.
"Those shoots at the Eagles aren't easy anymore," White says between throws. "There are at least eight people with a legitimate chance to win."
For 30 years, the Prince of Wales has hosted a Monday-night darts tournament, and the list of winners is kept by the board closest to the bar. White was the winner of the 1999 season. The 2000 one as well. And last year. His name tops the leader board for the current 2002 season. A whiteboard announcing the winner of last week's shoot reads: "Monday Darts Winner Chris W. Congratulations."
In the '70s, owner Jack Curry removed the pool tables to run off the Hell's Angels who dominated the joint. Installing dartboards instead not only calmed down the clientele but allowed him to get in some practice time on his way to becoming the U.S. darts champion in 1976. "We were pretty good back then," he says. "But Chris ..." He trails off. "You know, people come down here specifically to challenge him."
foam order.com
