Elite competitor tosses darts in LV

In Britain, people pack arenas to watch dart championships. Some pros earn millions. Yet here in Las Vegas, we have the nation's No. 1 female darter, and she may be famous in her sport, but she is obscure in her hometown. She keeps her day job to pay the bills.

Stacy Bromberg, 51, has been ranked the top female darter in the United States for 12 years. As such, she is an American ambassador among dart pros at this week's Las Vegas Desert Classic, which runs Wednesday through Sunday at Mandalay Bay, after the qualifying rounds Monday and today.

"You've got the best in the world coming in this week," Bromberg says. "You go anywhere in Europe (and) name Phil Taylor in any darts bar, and everyone has heard of him."

But around town here, Phil Taylor is just another "who?" And so is Bromberg.

What is the secret to her success? It may or may not be her unorthodox style of throwing. She spins darts clockwise on the pads of her fingertips as she's letting them go. This is weird. You're supposed to throw a dart with no spin.

Because of this spin, Bromberg's darts don't soar straight into the board. They kind of flop around in the air, the way a football toss can look like a "duck." And yet, those floppy missiles land with glorious precision.

"She kind of throws like a curveball," says John "Grumpy" Daughtrey, who runs the Dart Shoppe at Rum Runner on Desert Inn and Pecos roads. "But they always go where she throws it."

"If I could change it. I would," Bromberg says. "It works for me, so I just keep it. But when I do exhibitions and teaching clinics ... I say, 'Don't throw it like me.'"

She protects her fingers as a pianist would. On Saturday, she dropped a glass bottle in a kitchen and watched it shatter into "a thousand pieces." She stared at the shards and repeated her interior mantra: "Don't be stupid right before a big tournament."

"I'm looking at it thinking, 'I have a major tournament in a day or two. All I need is to pick up glass and start slicing my fingers,'" she says. "But I had no choice. So I gingerly and carefully picked up each piece. It was very methodical. ... I got away carefully unscathed."

Bromberg was born in raised in L.A., where years ago, a friend coaxed her to play darts. She won and never stopped winning. She dropped plans to practice law even after finishing law school. She went into the private investigation business. Now she runs a legal office for a company and substitute teaches.

She is known in dart circles as a fierce competitor, and for her kiss-everybody-on-the-cheek sportsmanship, everywhere she throws.

"She's a fantastic person, and everyone loves her," says Alan "The Iceman" Warriner, a former World Grand Prix champ from England.

There are just enough dart holes in Vegas to keep things interesting. She goes to Rum Runner on Fridays, to CD's Sports Lounge on Saturdays; both are at Desert Inn and Pecos.

League play is Tuesday through Thursday at those spots and at North Las Vegas' King Tut's and at Summerlin's Torrey Pines Pub.

Tonight at CD's, Bromberg is leading another one of her charity dart tournaments to benefit the Make-A-Wish Foundation. (Sign up is at 7 p.m.) She has raised $100,000 for the organization over the years. Her nickname -- every darter has a nickname -- is The Wish Granter.

Bromberg thinks women would be better darters if they were taught more hand-eye coordination as children. Like other female players, she was a tomboy as a kid, playing sports. Still, she can't beat the best male pros.

"She's nearly kicked my ass," says friend and former world No. 1 Ronnie "The Rocket" Baxter of England. "But not yet."

She profits some from her sponsor, Laserdarts, but female winners don't get big cash otherwise. She could earn $5,000 or $10,000 on occasion, compared with up to $60,000 for men.

So every dollar counts, yet on Sunday, Bromberg skipped a one-day tournament at Mandalay Bay that offered a $30,000 winner's purse. Why? She wanted to go to a baby shower in California.

I told her, "That's a $30,000 baby shower because you could have won."

"What's a friendship worth?" she responded. "A million dollars?"

Depends on the friend, I'd say.

Doug Elfman's column appears on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Contact him at 702-383-0391 or delfman@reviewjournal.com. He blogs at reviewjournal.com/elfman.