Standing, from left: Bobby, Kein, Donald, Nick and Pat. Kneeling, from left: Justin and Jon.

Photograph: Nisha Sondhe

Howard Beach, a neighborhood adjacent to a beautiful expanse of wetlands, has the feel of a sleepy seaside town. American flags hang from nearly every house and kids tool around on bikes down empty streets. The Rail Bar & Grill, below the JFK AirTrain terminal, is full of union workers of every stripe—pilots, plane mechanics, electricians, carpenters, plumbers—and home to two dart teams. On a mercifully breezy evening, the crews square off in the Peninsula Dart League semifinals.

The teams: Year-old Corkin’ Ain’t Easy (cork is another term for bull’s-eye) and the Outsiders. John, 25, who works for the Department of Sanitation, plays for the Outsiders with his brother Justin, 23, and their father (and team MVP), Mike, who’s absent tonight. “It’s rough,” John says of going up against friends in Corkin’. “We want both teams to do well.”

The players, mostly neighborhood residents in their twenties, clad in shorts and T-shirts, throw at the end of the main room. The guys from Corkin’ Ain’t Easy don’t drink much during the match to keep their aim sharp. “To be honest, we used to,” says team member and FDNY dispatcher Kevin, 24, whose grandfather used to drink here years ago, when the bar was called Malone’s. “But we were getting kinda hammered and getting mad because we knew we could play better.”

Kevin, left, celebrates with Corkin’ teammate Bobby.

Photograph: Nisha Sondhe

A small crowd of their girlfriends hang about the dart area with the all-male teams, while farther down the bar, a crowd of middle-aged drinkers in T-shirts and baseball caps holler over the sounds of video poker and an episode of Wife Swap. The winner tonight will play in the division finals, which leads to the championship. The Outsiders have entered the second half of the two-night bout up 11-8, and the teams spend two hours racing to 20 playing two dart game variations, cricket and 501.

While the teams jockey for the win, two local fixtures at the bar, Jim and Jimmy, explain “the equation”: the Rail’s mathematical appeal to JFK’s workers and travelers. “It’ll cost you around $10 for a beer in the airport,” Jim says. “A beer here is $4 and the AirTrain costs $5 each way.” If you plan on drinking at least two beers (and have the time), he reasons, you’re better off paying the fare to the Rail than you are sitting at a shitty airport bar.

Though Corkin’ Ain’t Easy came into the match three points behind, they pull out a win, earning free SoCo shots from Bobby the bartender (a Frank Sinatra doppelgänger, incidentally) and adopting “Fuck yeah!” as the team slogan for the rest of the night. Their key to success, says Kevin: “Practice, practice, practice.” According to him, the Outsiders might have taken the title if Mike had played. However, both teams were missing key players: Matt, the captain of Corkin’ Ain’t Easy, skipped the match for a Billy Joel concert. “Matt’s drunk at Shea Stadium right now,” says Kevin, “rockin’ out to ‘Piano Man.’”