The guys.

2004-02-27 at 12:00 p.m.

We're settled into a back table at the Horse Brass, a dark, wood-panelled pub that is much larger inside than it seems like it should be, with nooks and crevices and dartboards and bangers and mash.

"I don't want to bore you guys but. DAYUM!"

Dan, the captain of Andrew's darts team, is caressing their official team binder as if the location of Atlantis, or the alchemist's secret of turning lead into gold, or maybe the location of Hoffa's body, were clipped into its three rings.

"Well, you with your--I mean, you got in their face--" Dave S. gleefully waves his cigarette around, quoting Dan. "--and then your Babe Ruth--!"

"Wait, wait! We should tell it in order!"

It's chaos. I can't follow it to save my life.

This is darts night, every Thursday. I think some beer has been drunk.

"So McClellan was up against the top ranked singles player in the league," Dan says, waving his arm to Quiet Dave, who ducks his head, grinning. "And he managed to take a game off him, which, as it turns out, was key."

"The winning point!" the other Dave chimes in. "And don't forget where we came back from 277 to 16 to win."

"A great come from behind victory."

"But you!"

"Oh, yeah, my story."

"You should tell it."

"No, you. Me? Okay." Dan grins. He rubs his hands together, leans forward, picks up his pack of Lucky Strikes and begins shaking a new cigarette out of the pack. "So we're playing doubles, and we just needed a bullseye to win, and damn this team is obnoxious. I'm not going to win any sportsmanship awards. So I missed the bull, and the guy knew it, but he goes up to the board to check, just to be an ass. 'Ohhh, you didn't get it, that's a shame. You were soooooo close.'" Dan pauses to light his cigarette. "So," he says, shrugging. "I said, 'That's okay, I'll get it next time.'"

The guys on the team start cracking up as Dave holds his hand up as if pointing over an outfield wall.

Dan takes a drag off his cigarette, clearly relishing the moment, the place, the game. "He gets all up in my face, reminding me that they both get to go before I'd get to go again. I just--" he mimes shrugging and turning away. "And then it was my turn and I knew we had just this chance to get out and win it, and so my first dart--" he makes a hissing noise, and waves his hand at an imaginary dart board, "--nothing. Like, 11 or something. Then my second--zing--" and this time his arm snaps straight, extending, centered on the imaginary dartboard hanging in front of him. "Beautiful. Beautiful."

Dan leans back, inhales deeply on his cigarette. Dave shakes his head to himself, chuckling quietly.

Then Dan leans forward, towards me. "But then. Your husband."

I sneak a glance at Andrew, sitting next to me, grinning like a five-year-old who's managed to keep a secret. He loves this. He loves being a guy with the guys and then being The Guy, he loves being the quiet one who surprises everyone. He wriggles in his seat a little, doing the Seated Butt Dance of Happiness, looking a little like a tall bobble-head doll.

A lot of beer has been drunk.

"They were playing a tough match, a doubles match, him and Allie," Dan begins, nodding to the only woman on their team, seated next to him.

"Tough match," chimes in Dave, sharing a cigarette with his wife, Sara.

"They were way up on points, I mean, it was close, but they were up. And each team needed to close the bullseyes to win. I mean, it was close. And they were good. Whoever hit the bullseye was going to win the game, and the night was so close that whoever won the game would win the match." Dan lays his hand gently on the team binder. Waving toward the bar with his cigarette, he continues. "And then. From across the room, I hear a twack."

He leans back.

"I turn, and I see Andrew saunter up to the dartboard, lean in, and then--" Dan leans in, squints his eyes. And then silently snaps his hand in front of his chest, his two fingers extended. "Double. A double bullseye."

"Well," shrugs Andrew, barely containing his glee. "Sometimes, you just gotta do what you just gotta do." He sniffs, and hikes his beltloops, and orders another beer.

Dan and Dave laugh and join in.

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