My Mental Health Story Part 3 - Darts & Cycling?
After officially being diagnosed with anxiety, what happened? Well, not a lot other than trying to get on with life, because I suppose I still didn’t really know what was going on or what was wrong, and I suppose it was because I didn’t really know what anxiety was! Whatever I found out, I probably forgot the next day, and at times st, MBE,ill do.
Anyone for walkies? Our 4 Border Terriers I walked at 6.30
I eventually went back to work and just tried to function as I always had done. I carried on cycling, which is relevant in this story, and I carried on working, going to the pub, walking the dogs at 6:30am on the usual walks, and preparing for the day ahead. I carried on playing darts in the competitive league I had competed in before the accident, but here’s a thing. My first game some week or two after I returned home after the accident, I played well (or not.) I hit good darts, getting down to a finish quite easily, but I couldn’t hit a double for love nor money. The other guy plugged away, got to a finish, and beat me 2-0.
And of course there is that old darts saying, ‘Triple for show, double for dough.’ An old proverb highlighting that high scoring doesn't matter if you can’t hit the final double, and of course I couldn’t. The next week I simply got beat by the better player; he outscored me and finished well, and that was it. Some 13 years later I haven’t lifted a competitive dart since that second game. I simply gave up and walked away from darts, and I have no reason why; I just did.
Before those games I had probably been beaten two weeks running, not because I am a bad player; in fact, I do believe I could play quite well, to the extent my claim to fame with darts is that I have played the late, great Eric Bristow, the highlight of my dart-playing life.
I have always played darts from an early age, as with a few sports. In the RAF most sections where I worked had a dartboard, as back in the day we had a lot of spare time during the day, and in each section where I was stationed, I was the best player. When I was stationed at RAF Leuchars in the mid 80s, I played for a pub team in St. Andrews, and I played a Scottish international player on two occasions; unfortunately, his name escapes me, and yes, he beat me on both occasions, but I don’t remember being embarrassed.
Moving to Telford, I played for a local pub team, and the captain of the team always wanted the best team averages and win percentages for our team for the season, so he always put me up against the opposition’s best player so I couldn’t take his honours at the end of the season. In this league I played a Shropshire County player, and I beat him 2-0; he may have had an off night, but it happened.
This brought me to my Bristow moment. Bank’s Brewery at the time had 12 local pub competitions on the same night, with the winner going through to play Eric at a local working men’s club some weeks later. There I was in the final of the pub competition, knowing a best-of-five win would mean I would play one of my heroes; it was written in the stars. Except someone forgot to tell my opponent, and there I was some 15 minutes later defeated and deflated.
There was only one way to console myself; another pint of lager would surely help. Standing at the bar, I didn’t realise my victorious opponent was beside me. He turned to the owner, and I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. He was telling him he was working nights, including on the night he was due to play Bristow, so he wouldn’t be able to make it, and it was only fair that the runner-up went on to play instead. He went on to tell him that he only entered to see if he would win the pub night; I had never walked home from the pub with a bigger smile on my face.
And there we were a few weeks later, 12 winners all congregated and packed into a working men’s club, cigarette smoke and all, waiting for our 15 minutes in the darting world. I can’t remember what order we went up in, but I think I was about 5/6th on the oche, and in the first game I was nervous. I was still scoring over 300, and Bristow was on 105, so being the showman, he finished bull-5-bull. What a finish, and I will always say I didn’t and don’t care; to stand behind someone throwing 3 darts like that was amazing, even better when it’s Eric Bristow MBE throwing them! times, I
Eric Bristow, MBE. A winner, a gentleman and a player who helped get darts to where it is today
"Eric Bristow 1985 01" by Nicola is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.
In the second game it was closer, and as I got down to a finish, he saw the threat, and so he took no chances and finished at the first attempt, a theme for the night, which I will come to. But it's 2-0 to the world champion, a result everyone probably expected. But not one to be embarrassed by, and with that 105 finish, I am happy to tell anyone.
One player was having the darting nightmare of nightmares, scoring 15, 11, 3, and so on. To the extent he was still on over 400 when Bristow was on a 32-finish. As the despondent player walked back to the oche, Bristow put his own darts in his shirt pocket. He gestured to his opponent to give him his set of darts. Bristow took the darts, got down on one knee, and hit double 16 with the first dart, and if I remember correctly, the crowd went mad. That was showmanship in the darting world at its very best; I, like many, couldn’t believe it. And remember, dart players play with the same darts pretty much for their career. They are a very personal thing, but to hit your target the first time with no practice, using a dart you had never probably seen before is pretty good going.
However, we are all human, and in a later game, Bristow tried the same trick with his opponents' darts, and after three attempts (of three darts each,) he still hadn’t been able to finish. With the misses, the opponent was able to get down to a finish; he didn’t ask the opponent for his darts again; he simply got his darts out of his shirt pocket and duly finished.
He had to win; he wanted to win, and that is why he was a 5-time world champion. He didn’t want to lose to anyone, not me, not the guy on over 400, not the guy who wore down his trick shot, and not even on a charity night. I do believe he won the night 24-0, although I can’t confirm that; I simply don’t remember anyone else winning one game.
What’s that got to do with my mental health issues? Well, absolutely nothing – or has it? I loved my darts, yet I stopped playing within 2/3 weeks of my accident. Mental health treatments often tell us we need distractions and diversions, something that takes our minds off our problems, and we should undertake any sort of activity to concentrate our minds elsewhere. If we are concentrating on a specific subject, our mental health issue will possibly fade into the background, and for a period of time we will be okay. So why not do it, concentrating on something we enjoy, like darts?
Before my accident, I had a dart board in a spare room. I would come home from work and throw darts for as long as an hour each time, and that could be 3 or 4 times each week; I loved playing. I enjoyed going to the pub with a set of darts in my pocket, even if I was throwing on my own, waiting for my mates to join me for a Friday night beer or even a game with them. But that all stopped because I fell off a bike, banged my head, and got knocked unconscious, because there is no other reason; losing isn’t one of them, as I have lost before and came back fighting, but not this time!
And so here is my next question for this post. Why am I still cycling, and importantly, enjoying cycling, to this day? Because I don’t get it.
As per my previous posts. My two-wheeled baby
I am presently cycling on average 60/70 miles each week, admittedly road cycling instead of in the forests with dodgy drains, but I love it. There are some mornings when I wake up and simply can’t be bothered to get out of bed. That’s not being retired and lazy; that’s not having the motivation. But we have to do it; we have to get up at some stage and get on with things. And importantly, when I have made arrangements to meet cycling buddies, I won’t let them down.
So, I force myself to go out and get the wheels turning and the legs working, and guess what? Some 3 hours later I am a better person, physically and, more importantly, mentally. I feel so much better for the exercise, the banter, the laughs, and the day in general. Oops, I forgot putting the world to rights over a coffee and a cake! But I even feel better if it is one of those mornings when I have gone out on my own.
But exercise is good for us, and as mental health issues are on the increase, the more this needs to be discussed. It doesn’t have to be overly energetic, but it helps, both physically and maybe more importantly mentally. Please trust me on this one – I know!
And to me this is still one of the strangest things. In January 2013 I loved playing darts, and I loved cycling. According to a psychologist I spoke to in time, the accident was a ‘near-death experience.’ Something that I will come onto in later, but why give up something I enjoyed doing that was safe, and warm with a beer, and yet I still enjoy doing something that supposedly nearly killed me (according to the psychologist and the dent in my cycling helmet?)
The mind is a strange and very strong thing, and this will be continued.
Thanks for reading.
DJ
