WDF World Cup 2013
Thorn's 2013 World Cup, Part 2
I trundled off the plane, through security to find my baggage. I always worry a little that my world traveling darts will be missing or lost. I also realized I had packed for cold, wet weather--not the warm sunny day in Newfoundland I flew into.It was just after noon, September 30th, the day before the opening ceremonies. I had a day to explore the city, and I already had plans to catch a whale-watching tour. It was the last day of the season, and the boat left at one o'clock.
Not being an official World Cup participant, simply a journalist, I had no shuttle to pick me up. But, as fate would have it, I bumped into my first taste of Newfoundland hospitality in the form of Jennifer and Ann, two volunteers holding a sign to welcome inbound players and whisk them to their hotels. I introduced myself as a darts-travel writer, adding, "Is there any chance I could get a ride into town?" Within minutes, they made a couple calls, and a minivan was on its way to zip me to the docks for my tour. In the few minutes I waited, I met Dave Cameron, Tammie Pottie, Tammy and Dawson Murschell, more members of Team Canada fresh of their flights. I snapped one of my first pics of hundreds.
Dave and Tammie joined me in the shuttle van, driven by Scott, owner of Rosie O'grady's, the best dart pub in Newfoundland, as I'd discover later that night. Also aboard was Preston, head chalker for the tournament, and unofficial "official team mascot" of Canada. I was excited as we quickly talked and made plans during the ride.
They dropped me off at the foot of St. John's along the bay. It was hard not to appreciate this charmingly small yet historic city, its colorful buildings filling the blocks between winding hilly streets. The tour boat, run by DeeJay charters was surprisingly full and ready to launch, but with a little begging and more Newfoundland hospitality from the veteran tour operator, Trevor, he stalled a bit while we waited for my two good friends, Brenda Roush of Team USA and Renee Ripol to arrive, which they did last minute. Brenda was the reason I went to my first World Cup, as her guest in 2011; we traveled Ireland together too, and seeing her again in a new part of the world is always something special. With seconds to spare, the three of us leapt onto the boat. Low and behold, two other national dart teams--Sweden and Danmark--were aboard as well. Me, and three countries worth of dart players were about to get the royal tour of Newfoundland's epic coastline.
Who cares if the whales and puffins were long gone for the season? I'd seen them before many times. But how often do you get a summery day and glassy ocean on the shores of St. John's? Rarely. Putting out of the bay, we had amazing views of the pictuesque city. High above on Signal Hill was what looked like a citadel, the location where Marconi sent the first trans-atlantic wireless transmission. Reaching the open seas, we turned north, white waves crashing against the monstrous rocks at the base of shiny black cliffs topped with ragged rugged pine trees that grow against the normally harsh climate.
We trolled into Quidi Vidi harbor, a tiny cove with old fishing cabins and docks lining the rocks, that looked more like a movie scene than reality. At some point in history, this tiny town changed hands six times between seafaring empires like England, France, and the Netherlands. And, both St. john's and Quidi Vidi were focal points for German sub attacks while American forces prepared convoys and cod fisherman attempted to eke out their living during war. Among the few buildings was the new Quidi Vidi microbrewery, an attraction I had plans to see later that week.
Exiting the cove through its narrow mouth, our boat headed south toward Cape Spear, the easternmost point of North America, where lighthouses and cannon embattlements still stand above the pounding surf. And, all the while we soaked up the sights and sounds and smells of this hidden corner of Earth, imbibing several rounds of ice cold Blackhorse, one of several local Canadian lagers. It wasn't long before the teams of Sweden, Danmark, and a little bit of the USA, like a darting family, were celebrating this gorgeous day together, as regional music--bearing a strong influence from Ireland--blared through the boat's speakers. And Trevor made sure we got all the history and beers we wanted. We were happy and hungry by the time we docked back in the bay.
Brenda, Renee and I took Trevor's advice and walked two blocks up to Kelly's, on the corner of St. John's infamous George Street, to try the fish and chips. More brews disappeared along with platters of white fish and french fries under cheese and gravy, the iconic Newfoundland meal. While we ate, a text came from Troy: "I'll come pick you up at Kelly's." With Troy as my host, and other local and national team players, I was about to become an honorary member of Team Canada.
He took me to his home to drop off my bags and meet some of his family, but we didn't stay long. Moments later, we were headed to The Capital, one of the tournament hotels. While Troy checked in, I waited in the lobby below, quickly bumping into dozens of friends and familiar faces from my first World Cup experience. Plenty of new players were arriving too, all proudly wearing team colors, dropping off bags, and heading out to explore the city. I bumped into David Hascup, master WDF tech man and former teammate from DartsAroundTheWorld--we had a quick laugh reminiscing about our first World Cup and the fateful way I helped his laptop drown in a pint of Guinness. But before too long, Troy returned and we got back in his car. We were headed to Rosie O'Grady's, easily the best dart bar in Newfoundland, and possibly all of Canada.
It was premiere league night at Rosie's, where two dozen incredible dart players would play singles all night in voracious games of 501. To my surprise, I was welcomed as a celebrity of sorts, announced as a writer for BullsEyeNews, the latest issue of which was prominently displayed on the bar. Scotty, the owner, Preston, the mascot, and many more were there to shake my hand. Drinks began pouring as the players warmed up, and Preston and I began our week long contest of drinking Screech, the local dark malty rum that marks any visitor's initiation into Newfoundland.
We watched some incredible darts for hours, and I shook more hands and met more folks than I can recall. One memorable man and fast friend was Paul Murphy, a rabid fan, supporter and chalker for the World Cup. Paul also runs the local youth dart league. In fact, most of the chalkers and support volunteers for the tournament are regulars at Rosie O'Grady's. I also met Billy St. Croix, and soon uncovered my second great story of this World Cup, a day before events even began.
Billy is also a local player and dart legend. Both he and Troy recently through 9 darters in league at Rosie's in recent months. Billy is the one who taught Troy the finer points of darts, and like master and apprentice, Troy eventually surpassed Billy to qualify for the national team. Billy, despite chasing tournaments and points all over Canada and sacrificing time away from his family, had narrowly missed qualifying for Team Canada. But, just days before the tournament began, fate stepped in. Simard Marcel, the fourth member of Canada's men, had to withdraw due to his wife's illness...and Billy was given his spot on the team.
Now, Team Canada was not only the host nation, but two players, Troy and Billy, would be playing for their country in front of their home town! As the night wore on in the giddy drunkenness of darts people, I could tell that this would be a magical World Cup for team Canada. I had a front row seat to all the action and stories. And the opening ceremonies of the nineteenth WDF World Cup would commence tomorrow.
Over and double out.