One in a Million

The Prince Alfred Pub, Sydenham, the year is 1985.
Skol lager is on tap, the drink to have is light & bitter and a mist of smoke from various lit John Player cigarettes masks the view of the dart board which lives in the corner of the saloon bar. Various ‘human furniture’ props up at the bar, its only 13:00 but its Saturday and the regular drinkers are all on their way to getting well oiled, only muffled voices fill the air with random laughter coming from the public bar area.
Over at the dartboard, Paul Dean and his regular playing partner, Ron Johnson are up against their regular rivals, Eddie Mac and Eric Dobson.
Every Saturday, all four men would play first to 10 sets, best of 5 legs whilst consuming copious amounts of lager. The more they drank, the better they played.
The dartboard was all theirs, steady streams of 4 pints and 4 little bottles would be delivered like a conveyer belt as each one of them took turns. The bar staff had them ready every 20 minutes, anyway, allowing the game to flow.
All four men were of similar ability which made the games very close every week. They would each put in a tenner in the hope of doubling their money and in turn, getting the feeling of satisfaction that a small proportion of alcohol paid for itself.
Nothing beat the sheer feel of getting one over your mates though and winning, that was worth more than the £10.
It was a cagey start; Paul & Ron went behind 3-1 in sets but was confident they could still win once they got into more beers. Eddie, a funny guy originally from Cork, would keep getting his 10 pound note out of the vacant pint glass after a winning double was made. “yee fuckers are not gonna come back from dat, Shall we take it now?”
Eric, a middle-aged Londoner would laugh and coax his partner on, but Paul & Ron would just look at each other and telepathically say “been here before, let’s start sinking and hitting”.
It was turning out to be a classic, at 5-5 all four players had hit a few winning doubles each and double top and double bull were taking a pasting.
Some of the regulars, like Dougie Dave, Percy and Dave Hoof had wandered over to watch as they usually did. Someside bets were laid amongst them, and their vocal encouragement was purely created out of financial gain!
Paul & Ron went 9-5 up courtesy of a brilliant 136 finish from Ron and could see the finishing line. Irish Eddie was a little quieter now and started to concentrate.
Eric & Eddie started to play and when I say play, I mean the best they have ever played. They rattled off 12 legs in a row to make it 9-9 and Paul & Ron started to regret the pace they were throwing the pints down their throats. That pace got them a nice lead, but Eric & Eddie were shrewd, and side boxed a couple of rounds. They looked fresher and when Eddie hit double 16 to make it 9-9 out came the money from the jar again and a little Riverdance jig!
“Eddie, it’s up to 10, not 9” Paul chirped up. Paul was laughing as Eddie armed himself with a pool cue and slowly danced with it whilst singing Danny Boy. Dave Hoof and Percy picked Eddie up and started singing with him, alas making it clear where their money was laid.
Ron turned to Paul and said, “I’m fucked mate, I can hardly see.”
Do not worry, Paul replied. “They think they have won already but they haven’t.”
After 18 sets, the last set would decide the epic battle. It was near on dark outside, but the pub was still buzzing. Various shouts of joy and disappointment at the bar as the football scores on Grandstand
Paul & Ron could hardly stand but were throwing first. A quick handshake amongst the men and Paul was to throw. 41 was scored. He turned to Ron and shrugged his shoulders and then took half a pint down. “Ron, we can still win this, just throw like you did at the start” Paul said.
Eric and Eddie continued their relentless form and won the 1st leg.
Dougie Dave could see his money slipping away from him and tried geeing up Paul & Ron. “C’mon, I won’t be able to stay out if you let these two win, I bet a score on you!”
“Silly c@nt” Ron replied.
Paul spat his pint out at hearing Ron’s response and walked to the oche. “It isn’t over yet Dougie son” and threw a 100. Ron clapped it like he was at Lords and had just seen someone hit a 4. A slow, loud clap but that was all he could manage, that and a little grip on Paul’s shoulders.
Eric slammed his last dart into double top, it was 2-0 and they were one leg away from victory. Paul was propping Ron up now but still insisted they could win although after losing 14 legs in a row, was even having trouble believing himself.
Eddie was off with the cue again; this time singing Maggie and Eric was trying to get him to cool it.
2-1!
Paul hits double bull and a big roar from Dougie Dave behind him meant it was game on, Eddie was full of praise. To hit double bull after 18 or so pints took some doing and he wasn’t singing now, the cue was back in the rack and its dancing days were over for today.
Paul inspired Ron and Ron hit a 140 to leave Paul double top if Eric didn’t clear 60. A single 20 but two missed darts at tops by Eric allowed Paul to make it 2-2.
9-9 2-2. After hours of playing, it would come down to one leg of 501.
The roars from the last winning double meant at least 20 blokes had made their way over to see the last leg. Momentum had swung but it was anyone’s game now.
As Ron threw to start the last leg, the pub was silent. 60 scored and a pat on the back from Paul who looked as focused as you possibly could after such an amount of booze.
Eddie was chalking and told Eric they required 156. Paul & Ron were on 212.
Eric hit a 100 and the place erupted, Dave & Percy could be heard louder than anyone! Paul stepped up and followed it with another century. Again, the pub went mad, it was so close and all 4 players were laughing to try and ease the tension they were all feeling.
Eddie decided to hit single 20 and had two darts at double 18 for the win but he hit single 18 and single 9! “Be Jesus, I should have fookin’ stayed for tops”.
Ron stepped up and hit 52, his last dart screwing left into single 12. Eric, left with 9, hit single one but managed to go into the single bed of 4 and then outside double 2.
It left Paul with 60. Ron was shouting encouragement, but Paul managed only two single 20’s after slipping just under tops and then hit single 10.
Eddie was left with double 2. A bead of sweat dripped off his forehead as two darts hit the wire of double 2 just outside. He kept telling himself not to hit a single 2 but he talked himself into it and did exactly that. A huge “ahhhhhhhhhh” was heard as Eddie had left Eric the dreaded ‘madhouse’ and Ron the chance of taking it if he could get on a double. Ron hit single 2, single 4, just missing the double, and then ‘did an Eddie’ and hit single 2 again!
Blokes watching could not stop laughing. Before this leg, the doubles were getting gobbled up way before double 2 or 1 was required but the pressure was there for all to see.
9-9 2-2 and both teams with 2 left.
Eric bust madhouse with his first dart, Paul followed suit on his 2nd dart. The dreaded madhouse curse made each player bust or miss it twice each. Dougie wanted nearest bull to finish it but was told that was not an option. Eric, swearing to himself then missed with 2 darts and fell into double top with his third. Paul and Eddie bust yet again, leaving Ron the impossible task of finishing this mammoth match.
Paul then had a thought. He said to Ron “none of us are gonna hit this today but if I went over to the board, did a handstand and opened my feet to reveal double 1, do you think it would help?” Ron rolled up and said, “why not eh Paul, you never know”.
Paul was serious and had to clear it with his opponents. They both cracked up and said if it didn’t hit him and deflect in, they didn’t mind. Deep down they saw it as Paul & Ron giving up so were all for it. Paul was trying to ease the pressure though and thought they had nothing to lose if he could manage to do a handstand that pissed!
He strode down the oche, flipped upside down with his head on the floor and placed his feet together. He then asked Ron to tell him when his feet allowed Ron to see madhouse “That’s it Paul, don’t move son” Paul, red faced and a cigarette still hanging from his mouth muttered “we don’t win for hitting me Ron, finish it”
Eddie and Eric were holding their laughter in as they were trying to stay quiet for Ron’s go. The whole pub was silent. Ron flicked his dart from his left hand to his right, positioned himself and tried to focus although he could see the board swaying left to right…he let go….” THUD” the dart landed in the middle of madhouse!!!!
Ron blinked and couldn’t believe it! He ran up to Paul and cuddled his legs! When he let go, Paul allowed himself to get down and was in disbelief!
Ron had done it! Eddie & Eric, usually gutted at losing were rolling up. No one in the pub could work out how Ron had done it, they all thought Paul was going to have 3 arrows sticking out his Achilles! Dougie Dave was singing Ron’s name and collected his winnings from Dave & Percy who were over with Paul. “What made you think of that Paul you old bastard?” Dave asked. “I dunno” Paul said. “I was getting bored, and it just popped in my head, I never thought he would hit it!”
All 4 players arm in arm made their way over to the bar, still crying with laughter!
They drank way into the night and anyone who came into the pub was told the ‘Story of Madhouse.’ It was a Saturday none of them would forget and it was never tried again as everyone believed it was a one in a million.