Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Column 441
Who Dat? Why Dat? What Dat? Is Dat?
What an end to a year!
What a beginning to the New Year!
It’s been so crazy that even with all the darts – the soft-tip world championship, the PDC world championship, and with that silly little BDO thing about to start – it’s been damn near impossible to even think about our sport.
First Barack Obama was re-elected causing the founder of The Website That Shall Not Be Named to flee to his cabin in the woods, where hopefully he’ll stay for the next four years. The rumor that he’s cuddling by the fire with his close personal friend, plagiarist, and pathological liar, Kop “I Once Hit Five 180s In a Row” Ralph, was unconfirmed at press time.
Then two of the three Desperate Darts Wives got into an online brawl over which of their husbands was the best-ever darts player in the universe, even though neither of their last names were Taylor.
Then the world was gonna end. But it didn’t. As one wise man put it, “If the Mayans were so frickin’ good at predicting the future they’d still be here.”
Then Jesus was kicked out of Alley Pally.
Then there was a big snowstorm and some Americans (precisely 4,738,810 less than the majority that reelected the president) found themselves wishing they did believe in global warming and that it would arrive NOW.
Finally, the fiscal was gonna fall off a mountain. It did. Big whoop.
Somehow, as it has for centuries, civilization managed. The strong survived, the giant glitter ball descended in Times Square, and we all woke up resolved to swear off beer and cigarettes until dinner time.
But then… the shit really did hit the fan!
Alarming news seeped out that King Mswati III, the absolute ruler of Swaziland, banned the wearing of miniskirts and declared that women (I don’t know about men) who defied the ban would face a six-month prison term. Given that King Mswati III (who has 14 wives) is one the sons of King Sobhuza II (who had 125 wives – approximately the same number as some of Mitt Romney’s friends), it should come as no surprise that young women who dance topless for the King are exempt from this edict.
It should also come as no surprise that this happened in Swaziland. This is the same country where some years ago the national darts team allegedly prepared to meet a rival by wolfing down a stew of endangered animal parts to instill stamina and focus.
So there you go. This column really does have something to do with darts. It just took 436 words to get there. Frankly, I was starting to wonder myself.
With all the turmoil in the world – political discord, darts wives brawling on Facebook, Jesus getting the boot, monster blizzards, falling fiscals, the end of the world and worse – the banning of miniskirts – I, like many of you, I am sure, wondered: what might this portend for the future of the sport of darts?
So, naturally, I went to visit Scott Wollaston. He knows all.
Since honing his darts skills as a kid – late at night with his brother by flashlight in their bedroom – Wollaston has made quite a name for himself at the line. He won the 2006 WDF America’s Cup singles, scored back-to-back National 501 championships in 2004 and 2005 (only the second man ever to accomplish this since Jim Watkins in 1993 and 1994), and most recently topped a stellar field at the inaugural New World Dart Series (NWDS) event. In 2009, he was inducted into the National Darts Hall of Fame – one of just three people to be so honored who are not from the powerful darting bastion of West Virginia.
About the only recognition Wollaston hasn’t received is a Bull’s Eye News cover. In some Bizarro World perhaps this makes sense.
Just as anybody who knew the late Bucky Bakalac remembers where they were the day they first met, anyone who knows the “Ragin’ Cagin'” (who now calls himself “Is Dat” – whatever the hell that means) can recall with crystal clarity where they were when they first met. In my case I first saw him performing on stage in a transvestite bar on Bourbon Street.
Nah, I only jest. I do that sometimes. In fact, it’s possible that some of what you’ve read already may not be technically correct (fourth paragraph excluded).
I met Wollaston at one of the old North American Opens in Las Vegas. I bailed him and Dayton Strawbridge out of jail. At the trial it turned out Wollaston was innocent of all charges. It was Strawbridge who brazenly pummeled some guy at a St. Louis Steak and Shake with a ketchup packet.
Most recently, I met Is Dat at the Third Base Sports Bar in Metairie, Louisiana. For nearly a decade this joint (which one would think has something to do with baseball) has been the venue of choice for darters in the New Orleans area. One Rumplemint led to another and then another and by the end of the evening Is Dat apparently forgot that he was supposed to introduce me to some women with major boobage. So, he’s a good guy and a great player but he’s getting older and sometimes these days important things slip his mind.
Our conversation covered the gamut of hot topics in the sport of darts – most notably Holly, Lori, Doreen and Jess (last names have been omitted to protect the hot topics). Suffice it to say, Is Dat might someday qualify to be the King of Swaziland. (Speaking of this “bounty” of beauties, we also talked about the New Orleans Saints – but I have made a solemn promise to say nothing more than “ha ha.”)
It took a while to get around to asking my Big Question. In fact, I forgot. Frickin’ Rumplemint – the same evil elixir once caused me to nearly drive into a river at the Chicken Coop Open. I had to pop an e-mail to Is Dat after I left town…
With all the turmoil in the world – political discord, dart wives brawling on Facebook, Jesus getting the boot, blizzards, fiscal cliffs, the end of the world and worse – the banning of miniskirts in Swaziland – what might this portend for the future of the sport of darts?
Is Dat replied immediately…
Mais me, wen I wus head ta dat ole World Series of Darts ta compete fo da million dollah chu ax wot I wud say ta da tv fellah afta I won. I say I wud tank Phil Taylor fo doin’ da bes he cud. So ya know I say wud I tink.
Wud I tink is dat da question be coo-yon (a stupid-ass question). None of dis ha jack-shit ta do wid darts. I gonna go ta Vegas an defen my NWDS title. Watch out DARTSLIVE – I be on da stage in Hong Kong. An member wud I say, Phil Taylor: Is Dat gonna getcha. I guarantee dat.
From the Field,
Dartoid
