Zen and the art of dart-ness: Center thyself and become the bull's-eye

What would life be without those sports of daring, precision and skill collectively known as "pub games"? On the wall of Cottage Club's pool room are inscribed the words of a prophet: "To play a good game of billiards is the mark of a well-rounded education; but to play too good a game of billiards is the mark of an ill-spent youth." After an adolescence spent in the pool halls and sports bars of eastern Tennessee, I must respectfully disagree with the prophet.

There is no such thing as playing too good a game of billiards, or darts or poker. In the playing of pub games, we find the true measure of a man — or a woman, as the case may be. Pub games are the great equalizer. Before the green felt, we are no longer plumbers or preachers or Ph.D.s, but the skilled, the not-so-skilled and the hopelessly tipsy.

There is no game for which this is truer than darts. Skill at darts requires an abandonment of the self that is not required in any other pub game, a surrender to the forces of chaos that approaches religious faith. To hit the appropriate target, one must not try too hard to hit the appropriate target, but one must not avoid trying to hit the appropriate target. The finest dart player I ever knew played what he called "Zen darts." As he pinched a dart between thumb and forefinger, a trance-like, meditative glaze would pass over his eyes.

Like a cat preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting chickadee, he would nonchalantly turn his gaze to the dartboard. Then, before the board had a chance to escape, a dart would fly from his deceptively relaxed hand and sink into his target. My friend wasn't especially pretty, and he wasn't especially smart. But he never missed, and anyone who watched one of his perfect games knew he was a man of character.

At Princeton this king of pub games is a neglected orphan. Every eating club and residential college possesses ample pool and foosball facilities, but there is not a single public dart-playing venue on campus. Princeton students are thus denied the truest test of their taproom mettle. We should not be forced to nail dartboards to our dorm room walls and means of egress, nor should we be forced to seek out seedy pubs, perhaps miles from campus, in order to find darts facilities. Residential college and eating club administrations must act now to ensure a good game of darts to all that desire one.

Perhaps safety is the concern that has kept darts off campus for so long. Yet safety should not be a concern at all when it comes to darts. As in many other sports, the element of danger inherent in playing darts in a crowded room is key to the excitement and challenge of the game. The danger of darts contributes not only to the pleasure of those playing the game, but to the atmosphere of the room as a whole. It's impossible to have a truly great barroom brawl without some serious weaponry. It's hard to kill or even significantly maim someone with a pool cue unless you're really skilled. Darts, on the other hand, can cause some damage.

If dart-dodging and fatal bar-room brawls aren't your cup of tea, of course, there is the possibility of setting aside a separate room for dart players. Isolate them, if you want, and remind them of the dangers of their sport. But do not deny thousands of young people the opportunity to test their wills against darts, that neglected pinnacle of pub games. Melissa Waage is a politics major from Johnson City, Tenn. She can be reached at mrwaage@princeton.edu.