Panoramic View inside The End Zone

For me it all started around '96 or '97, as my former hangout, Popeye's, was quickly dieing down. In a move to get out before Taps started playing, my pool team switched over to Norm's Beer & Brats. We never quite felt at home at Norm's. I think it was the trivia game nuts that bothered me most. They would take up the buddy bars around the pool table, sitting in silence for hours answering multiple-choice questions. The only time worth speaking was when someone blocked his beloved TV screen. “If I buy you a box of Trivia Pursuit cards will you keep your ass home next week?” was obviously the wrong question to ask, as it did not seem I was making any friends at that bar. Therefore, after pool leagues The End Zone became a regular stop. I remember listening to dart players around the bar discussing how much ‘over' or ‘under' they were for the night. As only a beginner in a county league myself, I did not have the guts to ask if ‘under' was good or bad. The chances of me competing against this same group of guys within two years seemed about as likely as Monica stashing away a dirty blue dress. Life is full of surprises.

Hall of Fame was still dominant over The End Zone when I first entered TPA leagues. But from the moment Troy Banks sold out of H.O.F. The End Zone was the undisputed dart capital of the Duluth-Superior area. They made the adjustments by adding more boards, and situating the bar to be most comfortable for playing darts. With most of the H.O.F. teams moving next door to The End Zone, it quickly became a busy league bar on Monday through Thursday each week. In combination with weekly Friday tourneys, and after bar manager Chris Lessig pulled in occasional Saturday events like the Chicago style tourney, and some ‘bring your partner' events, the boards were always ringing. 

All those nights of leagues and tourneys played there only tell half the story. It was the place to stop for a drink any night of the week, and likely find Matt Gjessing, Pete Jouppi, Bryan Sturm, Jarrod Walker, or any other combination of dart players downing some drinks around the bar. When in the mood to go play some money games, it was typical to find some ‘splash for partners' matches going down. As the years went on some of the faces changed, but the atmosphere always remained the same.

How many times have you heard someone say it, “I am tired of the same old thing.” But do we really mean that? We are creatures of habit. How often, when you walk into a familiar bar, do you choose the same table, stool, or spot at the bar over and over again? We all do it. From the same parking spot to the same urinal, for some unexplained reason we choose what we know. I suspect this behavior is especially prominent in dart players, since we love this game of absolute repetition. Consistency is the goal, and we all strive to achieve it. Admit it, we all want to walk through that door and here “Norm!” announced in unison. Even the story I tell is repetitious, as dart players in all areas have a place like The End Zone. For the same reason, we will quite certainly find somewhere to replace it.  

So now I stand behind the camera and play the last scene at The End Zone. Floating in through the front door I shake hands with all the players in tournament matches taking place. All but Jarrod, that is, who just kicked a stool across the floor after shanking a double fifteen. I can talk to him another time! Up at the corner of the bar is Smitty, challenging Jouppi to some $5 cribbage games while he is killing time as cruising through the winners bracket. Jemal has filled in 9 of the top 10 spots on his favorite touch-screen game, but will not be satisfied until he wiped the other name completely off the winner's board. Matty is between them at the bar ordering up another round of shots. Metallica is roaring on the juke, but Sturm is loading up an hour of country to change the pace and really piss Trevor off. Four more guys are lined up on the other end of the bar, watching Angie reach for the McGillicutty's. These young guys have not yet learned the trick of how to look without staring. Dolan and Wayne are on the gambling machines, waiting for Jarrod to finish his match.  In through the back door walks Kyrola, never in time to play the tourney, but always in time to have a round of shots with Matty. For the last time I walk out the back door, and leave behind memories of The End Zone. Now, where the hell did I park!

Darrin Barker
March 8th, 2006