Many years ago, before The Old Dart Coach was the ODC, an aspiring writer equated his local yearly darts tournament to a circus. Being a newbie he had volunteered to help with the set up and the tear down. In later year’s he would come to his senses and plead “the call of work” even though he was unemployed. The dart standards went up in the empty hall, suddenly transforming it from four walls into a sporting venue. On the first night the room was filled with activity as darters took practice tosses, the sound of people filled the air and few beers were consumed. For three days it became my universe taking on a life of its own. Nothing outside mattered. It was the introduction into the family of darts. After the final dart the standards came down revealing an empty room. The stillness was deafening. I felt like a child viewing the vacant lot after the circus tent came down and the last circus truck pulled out.