Once again, the England Ladies soared to victory at the Six Nations Cup on a weekend when the Scottish Men triumphed for the first time since 2003.
The North Devon Resort played host where a bunch of the finest amateur darts players on the planet set out to drink the place dry. By Saturday morning, it was cocktails by distilling water from the Bristol Channel and popping a cherry and little umbrella in the glass. Had the event lasted another week, there’d have been rumours of seagulls being wrung out for moisture and somebody trying to ferment seaweed into Pinot Grigio. Not you Deta – probably have a magnum of fine champagne in the boot of the car.
As is tradition, there is a national tournament as well as two to crown individual men’s and women’s champions. I’m going to start with the latter as it’s no real surprise Deta Hedman and Mitchell Lawrie claimed those two. Fifty years apart in life, light years apart from normal human beings when it comes to ability on the oche.
No one was really shocked. If the Caribbean Queen and Wee Sox gathered their silverware collection and melted it all down, they’d have enough to make weapons for a medieval war. Mel Gibson would be on the phone asking for molten metal to make swords for Braveheart II. At this point, tournament engravers probably greet both with the enthusiasm of seeing your mother-in-law turn up unannounced with a suitcase.
Now, only to Nations Cup itself. And since I am a gentleman and like to believe chivalry is an important characteristic in us blokes, it’s ladies first.
The six countries each comprising of three fine exponents of tungsten were split into two groups. Simple so far. Each played the other. One went out, presumably to the local Off Licence to stock up, the other pair of teams formed the semi-final line up.
With the Netherlands and Northern Ireland eliminated, the four remaining battled away. The Welsh comfortably took care of business, cruising to a 5-1 win over the Republic of Ireland. Then the English trio of Deta, Laura Turner and Paige Pauling whitewashed the Scots. Which, in fairness, is a phrase Scottish sporting supporters have become far too familiar with over the years. Mention “whitewash” north of Hadrian’s Wall and half the country instinctively reaches for the whisky cabinet.
Into the showdown. The Queen of Darts and young Paige for the Blighty Bombers (I’ll soon find out how that name went down no doubt!) got off to a strong start. But between Eve Watson and Rhian O’Sullivan the Welsh rallied back to lead. Enter Laura Turner – not just one of the best in the game, but certainly in her own house (cue a text from hubbie Aaron when he reads this!).
Yep, Mrs Turner may well be a top TV pundit. However, first and foremost, she is a very accomplished darts player, and picked up back to back legs – even managing to commentate on them at the same time – putting England back in front before the legendary Hedman OBE stuck the final dart in the proverbial Welsh coffin.
Honestly, Laura multitasks so well she could probably present the coverage, analyse her own throw, cook a roast dinner and tell Aaron where he’s left his car keys all while averaging ninety-five.
There’s rarely a time where Deta and her partner Paul (England Ladies manager) don’t head off to a darts tournament and come back with a trophy. This time it was too. If the Caribbean Queen played on the Moon, she’d probably find a shiny cup there. NASA would discover life on Mars and Deta would somehow return home with the Martian Open title and a commemorative plaque.
Onto the Men’s event. Once both the Emerald Isle lads were knocked out, I’d say the last thing they wanted was a fifth/sixth place play-off. That’s like asking the last two at the finishing line of a marathon to just run around the block again. Anyway, the Northern part of the island won that which was probably the same level of jubilation as discovering more than the usual number of nuts in a Snickers Bar.
Semi-final time. And the holders England went out to Wales who, to be fair, were magnificent. It was a real team effort who, in their emphatic 13-6 victory, shared the legs almost equally amongst the five of them. There wasn’t a weak link among the Welsh. More harmony than a Westlife reunion and considerably fewer dodgy moves.
In the second one, Scotland prevailed 13-7 over the Dutch – again, with a real team effort with everyone pitching in. For the Netherlanders, it was only really Berry The Pear and Johann Brouwer who did the damage. Which sounds less like a darts partnership and more like a pair of accountants from Rotterdam who occasionally play folk music at weekends.
That took us nicely into the showpiece of the weekend. Not Jarred Cole singing karaoke or the England team attempting a badly choreographed dance routine that would have got them four red buzzers on Britain’s Got Talent. The final – Wales versus Scotland.
No pressure on the Scots. We’ve had several Prime Ministers and the launch of Facebook since they’d last picked up this title. Some players in the team were probably still learning how to tie their shoelaces the last time Scotland won it. One of them wasn’t even born. As for Wales, just a couple of years since they last tasted success.
What most neutrals hoped would be a close encounter – not the alien type – was pretty one sided in the end. After the early exchanges, the Tartan Boys were leading 4-1 and despite Wales chipping away, never really got back in touch.
It did then get pretty close with the Red Dragons closing the gap to just 8-6. But it seemed like the Scots then clicked into another gear, reeled off five legs on the bounce and who else but that youngster – who else – Mitchell Lawrie to pin the winning double for a 13-6 triumph.
Fair play. They can only just about beat Haiti and are unable to overcome the mighty Morocco in the football – but send them to Devon with a set of tungsten and an open bar, you’ll see the Scots at their best. Forget Hampden Park. Stick a dartboard next to a buffet and suddenly they’re transformed into the 1970 Brazil side.
And judging by the celebrations afterwards, you’d have thought William Wallace himself had emerged from the sea on a jet ski carrying a bottle of Buckfast and a Saltire.
Congrats to both England and Scotland. And for about the 52th time this year, also a huge well done to Deta Hedman and Mitchell Lawrie. I might as well copy and paste the last sentence because I will be using it again soon.
