WDF World Cup 2013

Thorn's 2013 World Cup, Part 8
Now, I don't know all of my WDF World Cup history. Fortunately, I was about to witness some.

But, before writing this article I did some quick research. Out of nineteen World Cups since 1977, Team England has been the overall winner thirteen times losing thrice to Wales and The Netherlands. England is always a heavy favorite and-with world class pros like Tony O'Shea, Glen Durrant and past and present BDO champions Scott Waites and Stephen Bunting-this year was no different.
In the Men's Team event, the British have won eleven times-other one time winners were The Netherlands, Canada, Finland, and Scotland, while Wales and the United States have done it twice. But, only once did the Americans knock out England to do it. That was 1985 in Australia, almost three decades and half a world away, when a team led by Eric Bristow and John Lowe were crushed by John Kramer and company. In the finals. Nine to zero.

It's one of the proudest moments in America's darting history. And, it's a feat that will likely never be matched. Or would it?

Which brings me back to today: day three of competition at the nineteenth World Cup in Newfoundland. As the fields of players began to thin out, the playoff pressure and player performance was picking up.

I was watching the women's side when Team USA manager Steve Brown appeared from nowhere, whispering in his British expat accent, "We're up three nil over England." My eyes got as wide as his, and we both whisked back to the men's side.
Steve squeezed back through the growing crowd behind his team, clipboard in hand, noting every turn. Ahead of him, World Cup veteran Larry "The Eagle" Butler, and World Cup rookies Robbie Phillips, Tom Sawyer and Gordon Dixon were mixing a cocktail of perfect chemistry, calm, and confidence. To their left, the four Brits-O'Shea, Durrant, Bunting and Waites-were trying to keep their wits.
More spectators gathered, the thickening crowd oozing with hushed oohs and shouts of support. England dug deep, taking two close legs, making it 3-2. This was it, the moment in a match when momentum is up for grabs.

History and logic told me England would come back, slowly if not dominantly, but my gut felt something else. Team USA appeared unfazed, unflappable, and united in a zen zone. As players rotated through their match-ups, the history making began. Leg six, leg seven-America cooly takes a 5-2 lead, quietly fist bumping while the experienced Brits try not to sweat and shake heads. Leg eight, leg nine-USA 7, England 2. The crowd swelled with players and people, a colorful mob of Canadian fans and foreigners caught up in the atmosphere and intensity, each leg growing in excitement. Leg ten, America leads 8-2, one leg from a place in the finals, but perhaps more amazingly, a historic and dominant victory over mighty Team England. I was beside myself with hope.

As fate would have it, Tom Sawyer played the last leg; I can't even recall his opponent. Does it matter? What I do remember is the energy in the dart hall, the transfixed and tantalized crowd, and players from other nations uniting in amazement, all of them sharing the rare thrill of an English upset.
After Tom hit a 58out to clinch victory 9-2, I knew I'd seen history; we all did. In the truest form of sportsmanship, the US Team humbly and respectfully shook hands, and Team England was equally classy and congratulatory in defeat. The crowd didn't dissipate either, as back-slapping hugs and high fives ensued between everyone-the players, their teammates, loved ones, supporters and staff, friends and strangers. It was euphoric.

Moments later, I was taking pics of Team USA, relishing in their victory as much as they were. I told Tom, from now on, a 58 out will remind him of this moment, and he smiled widely. Robbie and I laughed about the green soda he drank all day, "See right?! I told you that stuff was magic," he chortled. Gordon's glowing personality was brighter than ever, as we happily shook hands. But nobody looked more thrilled than the normally stoic Larry-he knew that something extra special just happened.

In two days, the Men's Team finals would be between Team USA and Scotland, who had their own historic win over the powerful Welsh team. I'm pretty sure the Scots were happy for the Americans too..and happy to not have to face England.
Witnessing all of this, I was simply elated. And, I knew what I wanted to do-celebrate big time!-and hang out with my fellow Americans partying George Street!

Events were over for the day, and the PowerPlex quickly cleared out. Gordon, Tom, Robbie and I giddily waited outside for the school bus shuttle back to the hotel-for a quick change of clothes, a drink or two, then off to St. John's infamous bar-lined party street for dinner and debauchery. As we waited, an equally delirious Scottish team serenaded everyone with songs of victory. Me and the guys were so excited, we actually got on the wrong shuttle, and had an extra long tour of town before begging the now grumpy driver to get us to the right hotel. Overwhelming intoxicating joy was our excuse for stupidity, which, like most kind Newfoundlanders would, he eventually accepted as a fair reason.

Almost back to the hotel, Robbie "Robot" Phillips, in his quick and quirky way said, "You know what I want to do tonight? I want to get screeched in, you wanna get screeched in? Let's do it, you wanna do it, I wanna, I'm gonna do it."

Gordon, who's almost almost chuckling, was already chuckling, and Tom chuckled up too. They didn't say yes-they knew that getting "screeched in" involves kissing a cold dead fish.
"I'll do it Robbie," I said with my own chuckle and without hesitation.
"Sweet Thorn! Let's do it, I wanna do it, lets do it," said Robbie even quicker.

First lunch with Trina, now heading out to party with Team USA.this was turning into one of the most memorable dart days of my life.

Over and double out.






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