I had never played darts before I was in college. One summer night I found myself in front of a pitcher of beer weighing the barrel of a dart between my finger tips. The all-male dart team was short a player, and I was the token female replacement. I felt a rush of excitement as well as a sense of fear. All eyes were on me as I stepped to the throwing line, aimed with a shaky hand, and missed the dartboard completely.

I'd soon come to realize that playing darts was not only fun, but (despite my early attempts) I was good at it. Like a juggler or a person who does card tricks, I too had a secret skill. When a carnival came to town I'd look to see if the dart/balloon booth was on the midway. I'd usually be given an extra dart by the carnie (who assumed I'd miss anyway). In the end, I'd usually leave with the biggest prize. When people caught wind of my new found passion they didn't take me very seriously. The game of darts was for men, hicks and boring people with nothing to do. I was about to prove them wrong.

After a few months of practicing at a local pool hall, I decided to buy my own set. My first darts were tungsten soft tip. The flights I used were bright in color, sparkly and couldn't be missed. When I stepped to the throwing line I felt a sense of light heartedness that was different than what I felt playing other games. The distance, power and accuracy were completely in my hands. As far as the game of darts was concerned, I was the controller of my own destiny, and at any moment things could change for the better or for the worse.

I'm not saying I'm the best dart player that ever lived. Hours have been spent playing cricket and 501 only to be defeated by people who relish in the art of defeating. Even though I have been disappointed as well as disappointing, I've found more good-willed sportsmanship through playing darts than anywhere else. The act of playing darts draws people together. It evokes conversation and laughter, develops friendships and bonds. It can be played in the fanciest of taverns or a neighbor's basement by young and old alike. I can truly say that I've never met anyone who wasn't, at least a little bit, interested in throwing a dart.

I have to admit, it's been years since I've seriously played darts. When my nephew received an electronic dart board for Christmas we rushed to his room to set it up. I carefully weighed the barrel between my fingertips and took my shot. Instead of hitting my mark, the tip embedded itself into the wall. "Dang," he said. "My mom's going to get mad." I had more fun that afternoon than I had in a long time. A wave of nostalgia passed over me. I was thwarted back to my college days when long summer nights were spent drinking beer and shooting darts.

Learn more about this author, Elizabeth Woodward.
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