Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Dream Team Is The Prixxx' Nightmare

At a venue last night where one could be forgiven for thinking that they had died and gone to Playboy bunny heaven, The Prixxx got smashed by the formidable outfit calling themselves The Dream Team. Although chat was awash all week about the enormity of the task that lay ahead for our boys (The Dream Team allegedly finished well in the top division last season), the hum emanating from the cab on the way to the Catwalk suggested not an inkling of the ginormous butterflies that must have been scraping the inner walls of the boys' innards. In retrospect, it will go down in history that our Dear Leader (King Prick the First) did an almighty job in allaying our fears with his intimate knowledge and amusing anecdotes of the Catwalk from his previous visits, enlightening us on what may or may not confront us upon arrival, all the while taking our minds off our worst fears - being publicly humiliated again within the space of one week. Our Dear Leader's efforts are all the more remarkable as he was fighting his own inner turmoil as this was the night that he was captaining his new team The Prixxx (of which he hand pricked picked) against his old team that he had represented for the past four years.

Site of 'erstwhile' bloodbaths
Tucked away in the cavernous environs of the New World (and what a world it is) is The Dream Team's home patch. Beautifully positioned atop the staircase overlooking the show ring, the playing area is bathed in soft lighting courtesy of the down lights dangling above the pool table (think IKEA catalogue) which is conveniently covered on match nights for use as a 'dining table' where visiting teams are gleefully devoured by the home team over seemingly endless fingers of scotch. And judging by the size of some of the 'verandahs' hanging from these boys (one in particular who reminded me of a night owl rousing from his afternoon nap), they have devoured many poor souls before us. I can only imagine what they must have been saying before our arrival - "Hmm...Prixxx on the menu tonight...shall we do this over a lazy bottle of Johnny Walker perhaps?...and I'll have my little Prixxx well done thanks..." But if ever you are to be made a meal of, this would be the place to have it happen. The dartboards shimmer on the far off wall illuminated by their very own down lights (at least three for each board) and are juxtaposed against a bright red backboard (most likely covering evidence of erstwhile bloodbaths), and doubling with the bluish-gray hue in the atmosphere (smoke haze), The Dream Team has truly got an enviable place to hang out (and to play darts of course) - who would need to go home?

How would you like your Prixxx done boys?

Once we had nestled into our surrounds and exchanged pleasantries with our opposition, the triples got underway and it was clear from the outset that The Prixxx were the apprentices and The Dream Team were the masters and they were about to teach us a few things. Nevertheless, with a couple of Prixxx in possession of some brand new sets of barrels, they were champing at the bit to sink there tips into some high scoring cork and kick off on a high. However, unlike last week, we failed to gain any points in the triples because The Dream Team were simply sublime in their ability to check out (baaaastaaaards!). In the time it took for a wink of the eye from a parading beauty in the tangle that was the girlies lining up on the dance floor just metres below us, The Prixxx found themselves 2 nil down going into the doubles - and The Dream Team hadn't even had their dining table set yet.  

The doubles again bore no fruit and the night was shaping into one of those floggings that leave you crying for your mumma because you've just been defiled by a bunch of middle-aged men who smell of grog and smokes. But just as the night was flagging, a bevy of girls appeared at the top of the stairs on their way to a "presentation". A quick survey of the room showed some Prixxx now standing up when just moments before they had looked listless and spent - a sorry lot. Thank God for those girls because despite being a long way behind, a renewed sense of vigour imbued our boys and left us pumped as we moved into the singles.

The Prixxx
Whether it was the girls or some other inspiration (I guess we'll never know), something certainly stirred within the Gujarati Gun (a.k.a. Moulik) as he toed the oche and unleashed some of the best darts he has thrown since taking up the game. Amongst the carnage of the night, the Gujarati Gun was unflappable as he toppled his opponent with some inspired 'dartistry'. The 'doof-doof' from the bass downstairs was certainly making its presence felt within our eardrums, but it was when the big fella nailed his second checkout of the match with apparent ease that scores of ear hairs curled up and died from the sheer number of decibels roaring from his tonsils. His win also gave The Prixxx their first opportunity for the night to yell out (more of a murmur) "You've just been pricked!" In other highlights of the night, our other debutante Nico (Moulik was the other first-gamer) was as eager as a honeymooner all night and went very close to taking his first point home to the Prickhole out in D7. He too played some excellent darts and showed that he must not be taken lightly as he could easily have come up trumps in his showdown. On a lighter note he raised some eyebrows when he inquired, "Whose gunna take this rubber?" - surely a dangerous question to ask in such a venue. And in a special mention, the Skipper, who has been down in the doldrums a little of late on the scoreboard, was able to pull a 90-odd out of the bag to keep us in contention for a point when we really needed it and the pressure was on.

While we lost this "rubber" 11/1, we were certainly made to feel more than welcome at The Catwalk by The Dream Team - a great bunch of guys who truly love their darts. But surely we can be excused for having feelings of disdain for these lads after they spanked us and buttf**ked us the whole night long and then rubbed salt into our wounds by singing a rousing rendition of their team song. Thanks so much Dream Team for dashing any hopes of a close match and an injection of confidence into our fledgling team - I just so hope you were kept awake last night by heartburn from eating us Prixxx alive!

My votes for this week:

3 votes - The Gujarati Gun
2 votes - Nico
1 vote - Special K

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