“Let’s play darts” is a catch-cry that first originated in a bygone era of the sport, pre-schism, vocally embraced by the audience at a venue, to signify the start of a game.
It goes back to the day in darts when there was only the British Darts Organisation (BDO) running the sport, where there was only one world championship, staged at Frimley Green and colloquially known as "The Embassy" a hat-tip to the sponsors, a tobacco company. They were different times in many ways.
Now the BDO represents a quasi academy or a work experience placement for those who seek fame and fortune in the bright lights of the Professional Darts Corporation (PDC), to whom the best players in the sport are contracted. The riches of the PDC, relatively speaking, act like a siren call to the best of the BDO; few resist.
An affiliation between Sky Sports, bookmaking firms and the PDC has infused a circus-style razzmatazz, where adults get to dress and behave like children, albeit ones emboldened by alcohol rather than popcorn and ice cream.
Darts has borrowed the “ring-walk” from boxing, adding a twist here and there, as the protagonists, flanked by security, reach out to the public before doing a bit of on-stage twerking to their walk-on music.
Pantomime
Audience participation centres on a sing-a-long and in deciding the hero and villain for each contest. Those roles are not atypical, goodies and baddies vary by inclination and venue. It’s a pantomime, brash and boisterous and despite the heckling taken for the most part in good humour by the players.
Not always. The Winter Gardens in Blackpool played host to the World Matchplay and in a quarter-final match between the world number one “Mighty” Michael van Gerwen and the greatest player ever to throw an arrow Phil “The Power” Taylor. The crowd really got after van Gerwen as the Dutchman slumped to a 16-6 defeat.
So did his opponent afterwards. Taylor accused van Gerwen of being disrespectful in a previous match, a victory over Australian Simon Whitlock. He said: "Well, he didn't text Vincent van der Voort tonight, did he? It's ridiculous.
“During Simon Whitlock’s match, he’s [van Gerwen] 8-2 up and texts Vincent van der Voort ‘Simon Whitlock’s out’, I mean what’s he doing? C’mon, he’s a professional, he’s world number one; grow up. He’s just stupid for doing that and I’m going to tell him that.”
Taylor also had a dig at Sky Sports' analyst Wayne Mardle, not for the first time, presumably for suggesting that as a 4/1 outsider, he'd lose to van Gerwen. The sport's most decorated player than went on to hammer Adrian "Jackpot" Lewis in the semi-final as the crowd bayed in support, hoping he'd win a staggering 16th World Matchplay, the same number of World Championships he's accumulated.
Sometimes it can get a little testy at the oche as was the case when "Snakebite" Peter Wright, a man whose hairstyle is that of a permanently surprised cockatoo, and Northern Ireland's Daryl Gurney exchanged words and looks.
The Sky Sports commentary team of former multiple world champion John Part and Rod Harrington provided a voiceover, if no illumination, on slow motion replays of Gurney's words and Wright's stare.
The only thing they could muster was the Wright might have slowed the game down before surmising: “It’s getting personal, it’s getting fruity.”
Odd chuckle
Part and Harrington are no Sid Waddell but the commentary is a blend of knowledge and humour, raising the odd chuckle in treaties about the physical endeavour imposed by darts.
Part’s assertion that “you want to conserve your energy, your strength, it’s a long game,” when talking about a contest that’s decided by the first player to win 16 legs; where a dart weighs the equivalent of an AA battery, where the round trip to and from the oche is about six steps and where the players are entitled to a break every five legs, can hardly be equated to the Marathon des Sables.
Fortune ebbs and flows, the ecstasy of 180 maximums, the agony of missed doubles, the combatants gurning to the camera occasionally supplemented by a finger gesture, all the while accompanied by a commentary soundtrack including the witticisms that “you can’t shut up shop with a lead in darts” and that “Wright has grasped the box seat.”
Adding to the entertainment is the guttural rasp in score calling of wonderfully named referee Russ Bray who operates a simple rule of thumb. Anything under 50 is clipped vocally, "fortyfive", while at the other end of the scale there is that wonderful elongation of "OOOOOOOOONE HUNDREDDDDDD AND EIGHTTTTTTTTTTTTYYYYYYY".
At one point, Snakebite leaves the stage, his opponent, Gurney, looking like a little boy lost in a shopping centre scanning faces for his mother. Wright wins and goes in for a big bear-hug but his opponent leans back, gingerly sticking out his hand rather than accepting the bodily contact that is the traditional acknowledgement between winner and loser: a final plot twist in the game of throws.
