In the early 1800's when young Splint McGriff was growing up in Cork, Ireland, he was given a gift from his grandfather. The gift was a tool used by his ancestors to hunt small game, and it could be used as a weapon against thine enemies in times of conflict. It had a long wooden shaft that was smooth to the touch, and a crude metal blade lashed to the shaft with rawhide. Matted down feathers at the opposite end helped guide the instrument during flight. Young Splint listened attentively to the stories told by the local Shanachie (storyteller) of great competitions held in the Spring to celebrate the end of Winter. During these competitions, the potato farmers would stick the tip of their crude "darts" in a potato to make them stick better in the wooden target. Thus the term "staaaaaarch" originated.

In 1847 Splint left the Emerald Islands in search of a better life in America. He brought with him memories of his Irish homeland and the traditions that gave him comfort in his brave new world. Splint continued the tradition of what we know today as "darts", until his tragic death in a darting accident.

In a heated final match he hurled a classic wooden dart at the board. As the dart approached the bull's eye, Splint realized that in his drunkenness he had forgotten to starch the ill-fated dart. For some unknown reason, he stepped towards the dartboard, at which time the dart was rejected by hitting the metal bull's eye ring. The dart came right back at him, penetrated his forehead and dropped him dead on the floor. There lies the story of Splint McGriff.

We celebrate his memory each year on the Saturday closest to St. Patrick's Day with an event that Splint himself would have organized if he were alive today: