The World Professional Darts Championship co-opted several hours of BBC2, one of the five channels we get on our tiny Samsung in our little condo on Robert Adam Street in the West End of London. I’d call it Marylebone, but I cannot pronounce Marylebone. What does one do with that ‘le’? This is only one of many perplexing problems I have with London. Another question is what all the guys we met in London, along with the American boys who are in Yale-in-London, find so fascinating about darts.

Picture, if you will, the darts competitors arriving at airport security checkpoints.

WORLD DART CHAMPIONSHIP CONTENDER: Now, Mickey, don’t you worry. We’re athletes. We’re allowed to bring sharp pointy objects on the plane.

MICKEY: I don’t know, Sean. I still think you should have some sort of identification. Or have asked first.

SEAN: Don’t be silly. I’m a world dart championship contender. And EVERYONE watches darts. They’ll KNOW who I am.

FEMALE SECURITY GUARD: Excuse me, sir, what are these things in your suitcase?

SEAN: They’re darts. I’m going to a championship. I need to keep them close to me in case of sabotage.

FEMALE SECURITY GUARD: Step aside, sir. I see on your passport that your last name is Middle Eastern. I’m going to have to call in some other guards.

SEAN: My last name is Brown! Don’t you recognize me? Come on, I can’t be late. Let me through.

Sean tries to push by security. Another security guard blocks Sean and tazers him.

MICKEY: Sean! [To self.] He coulda been a contender.

You see the problems that could come up. I did a little research in an issue of TimeOut London and found that between 2 a.m. Wednesday and 8 p.m. Sunday, BBC2 broadcast approximately 22 hours and 50 minutes of darts, some of which was during prime time. Nearly 23 hours of throwing pointed sticks at a circle. What is the play-by-play commentary like?

DARTSCASTER 1: Bob, this is unbelievable. Brown has flexed his index finger to a 52-degree angle, as we have drawn on the screen in close-up. As we all know, Sean Brown is infamous for his perfection of the 45-degree angle index finger cross-pinkie throw, but today he seems all off.

DARTSCASTER 2: And here’s the throw, Rob. [Pause.] Ooh. Bad luck.

DARTSCASTER 1: That will surely put him out of contention for the next level, Bob.

DARTSCASTER 2: It sure will, Rob. We’re going to the tape to see where this fell apart. Look. Right before he releases the dart, his right eyelid flutters slightly. The trajectory of the dart is ruined by the angle, as Rob noted before, as well as a lack of that must be due to fatigue.

DARTSCASTER 1: And look at that posture, Bob. Atrocious! I’ve never seen a bloke lose his form like that. I guess we should just be glad he made it here despite his obviously damaged psychological state.

DARTSCASTER 2: Damn security checkpoints. He coulda been a contender.

But most of all, how can guys watch this for so long and then defend it with such conviction? It can’t be any more interesting than baseball, which I can’t watch for more than seven minutes without needing a stretch myself … a stretch to the remote control to change the channel. I guess I just can’t imagine anyone caring that much about darts, not even if he happened to know someone at the Championship.

MICKEY: Let’s see. What to watch? Ooh. Sean!

DARTSCASTER 2: And here’s the throw. [Pause.] Ooh. Bad luck.

MICKEY: Oh, bloody hell. [Changes channel to Antique Roadshow.]

Of course, this is all in my head. For all I know, darts could be the next big thing. Maybe there will be a dart hero who visits poor minority youths when he comes back to his old hometown and puts in a good word at the local YMCA. He’ll get a contract with Boots, a pharmacy here in England that often doubles as opticians. In the commercials our hero, let’s call him Brown, will tell everyone how in his youth, he suffered from poor vision. The commercial will show a young boy with thick glasses tripping around, trying to throw darts during recess, but instead of the board, he hits the teacher in the bum or a stray cat who only has one eye. Poor cat. But then the boy decided to get laser eye surgery. And now he’s a World Dart Champion! He makes lots of money! He’s dating models! And since the cat got a free glass eye with the purchase of the laser eye surgery at Boots, even the cat gets laid!

Unfortunately, as we all know, being a sports hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe Brown will test positive for steroids (strong, muscular fingers divide the champions from the posers at the local pub). Or maybe he’ll finally admit in his memoirs that he’s been working for a shady bookie named M the Mouse. Or just maybe he’ll be accused of raping a girl in a hotel room and have to buy his wife a state-of-the-art dishwasher that actually works to make up for it (as if world darts champions, even ones with fat Boots contracts, could ever afford diamonds).