Remembering Liam Cooke
by Chicago Darter Nancy Visocki
The year was 1974, the place was the Three Links Motel, the event, the first Chicago City Championship. I didn't want to go, as I'd only been playing darts for a few months, but my teammates dragged me there anyway. The first person I met outside of my small nucleus of teammates and division opponents was "the kid" with the toothy grin and firm handshake. That weekend, I gained a new friend and our friendship lasted 34 years. His name was Liam Cooke.
Liam Cooke was a great dart player. If you played darts in Chicago, you knew him. It did not matter if you hadn't played in 30 years or just started six months ago, you knew Liam. And Liam knew you.
Liam passed away suddenly in April, at a young age-fifty, I think. He never did tell me his real age, coy until the end. I thought I met him when he was 17, but I find out he could have been as young as 14. He and his father Bill were born in Ireland. Bill would travel to the big dart bars in Chicago, taking Liam with him. "Let the kid play," he'd ask of the owners and bartenders and they obliged. We all called him "the kid." He had an amazing stroke. He'd step up to the line and set his hip a certain way, rarely moving after that and deliver his dart, smooth, swift and soundless, with deadly accuracy. At the height of his skills when he was in his 30s, if he had 160 or less left, we packed up our darts, because the game was most likely over. I've played with him and against him hundreds of times over the last three and a half decades and win or lose, he was always the same, a gentleman and a good sport. He played for the pure love of the game and cheered for great shots-it didn't matter if you were his partner or opponent, a good game was to be celebrated.
Liam Cooke at Di's Den, Chicago, IL US
He had a huge smile and an infectious giggle. He would light up a room when he arrived. Someone would always announce, "Liam's here," as he rushed through the doorway, with his Groucho-Marx like walk. He had a wonderful way of taking some of the most mundane incidents and making them sound like the most exciting thing that happened all week. "Hey, guess what," he'd say with child-like innocence, and launch into some anecdote. As someone recently told me, "how could you not have fun when Liam was around." Although I knew he was well-liked, I never realized until now how well-loved he was by hundreds of people. His memorial service was standing-room-only and we all cried over the loss of our dear friend.
He never had a bad word to say about anybody. He loved people and people loved him. He had more friends than anyone else I know. We will miss his jokes and his laughter, his sweet nature and gentle soul. He was truly one in a million.
Liam Cooke was a great dart player, but a great dart player isn't just about winning. Liam didn't win all the time, after all he was competing during the time when some of the best payers in the country lived in Chicago: Dan Pucillo, K.C. Mullaney, Jerry Pavlick, Jim Damore. Liam and these guys would take turns winning local tournaments. A great player is about loving the game, nurturing and teaching, and leaving behind a legion of teammates and friends who feel your loss every day. Liam did all of these things. He was the greatest player I have ever known.
