Dartoids World

Column #149 Hairy Ears

October 1, 2003
Column 149
Hairy Ears

Okay, so I’m fifty years (and one month and four days) old.

I’m not keeping track of time. Really. I don’t care. I DON’T!!

It doesn’t bother me at all. Not a bit.

Not even an itsy bitsy teenie weenie bit.


I feel the same as I did when I was younger, way back a month ago.

Sure, some small things are slightly different. That’s natural.

It’s not like they matter…

For example, this morning I noticed that my razor seemed kind of dull. It turned out to be my toothbrush. So what?

Tonight on the way to league people were yelling at me. So what if it turned out that one of them was on the hood of my car?

In between matches I was sharing a joke.

“You know,” I heard myself say as I arrived at the punch-line, “you know, the guy with the thing.” My team mates just stared at me.

“Come on, you know. The guy with that thing. You know. That guy!”

So what if it took me ten minutes to remember who the guy was (the Pope). It was an honest mental lapse.

So I’m throwin’ 501. And I’m throwin’ pretty strong. I have 82 remaining. Three darts. I miss the red bull by a sliver with my first dart, scoring twenty-five and immediately stroke and peg the seventeen. And then — BAM! — just as quickly I close the double sixteen.

“Good game,” I said as I offered my hand to my opponent. Melissa was her name. She was seventeen. Looked good. Yep, she sure did.

And she was looking back at me kind of funny-like. Almost starry-eyed. Hmmm.

So I repeated myself. “Good game, Melissa. Good darts. Nice t-shirt.”

And then she spoke. “I think you meant to throw at tops. You still have eight remaining.”

SO WHAT! I’m no mathematician.

Everybody makes a minor subtraction error form time to time.

Later during my cricket match one of my flights slipped off my shaft.

SO WHAT, if after five minutes, I had to admit I couldn’t see well enough to slide it back on?

It’s was dark, damnit!

SO WHAT if I then threw ALL THREE DARTS at the triple sixteen, which it turned out both my opponent and I had already closed.

I goofed. That’s all.


This shit could happen to anybody.

I’m not concerned. Really. I don’t care that I’m fifty.


It doesn’t bother me at all. Not a bit.

Not even a little itsy bitsy teenie weenie bit.

The only thing that worries me is that my ears seem to be hairier than my head.

From the Field,



  • Dartoid

    "Dartoid" is the pseudonym of Paul Seigel, a prominent chronicler of darts for over 35 years. His columns are celebrated for their wit and insight, often detailing his quest for a game in exotic locales worldwide. His writing offers vibrant commentary on the competitive darts landscape, including players, organizations, tournaments and the sport's unique culture. Dartoid's articles are highly regarded among darts enthusiasts, solidifying his role as a pivotal figure in promoting and documenting darts as both a recreational pastime and professional sport.