Blasphemous as it may be, if I am to be honest, each time I head to Las Vegas -- for years to the North American Open and lately to the Desert Classic -- my first thoughts are not of darts. I can’t help it. Instead, my mind is inevitably drawn to faded memories of another time, a wonderful time, not so long ago as it seems, when I used to wile away the most enjoyable of hours with my old best friends. Randy, Ross, Fred and John...