IS it possible to be a darts hipster? If it is, then consider this an official pitch for a place.
No, I was never on Bullseye. I wasn’t there when Cliff Lazarenko lit Jockey Wilson’s cigarette either. But I was in the Citywest Hotel in the early Noughties, several times in fact, as the darts world descended upon Dublin for the World Grand Prix.
Ah, the Citywest – what a place. What a special place. Here, you got your pint in a glass. Queues were rarely more than one deep. Pre-smoking ban, you were afforded the basic human right of choking on your own toxic fumes, as well as those belonging to everybody else.
This, my friends, was when we were a country.
Phil Taylor, John Part, Peter Manley, Roland Scholten, Steve ‘The Adonis’ Beaton… names that trip off the tongue. Even though he wasn’t part of the PDC, I went dressed as Ted Hankey one year. Like ‘The Count’ himself, that decision has not aged well.
The beauty of the Citywest didn’t stop there. Because we always stayed for a few days, the great and the good wandered around without a care in the world. Sid Waddell was eternally popular among the sport’s faithful following. Eric Bristow would hold court in the nook bar off the main corridor. Ah, Bristow…
One morning, before a three-course breakfast, I shared a swimming lane with Raymond van Barneveld. How many can say that? What’s your claim to fame?! No, didn’t think so.
Sky Sports were onboard back then but darts hadn’t quite reached the stratospheric level it has gone to since. Simpler, less pyrotechnical times.
The advent of Premier League Darts would eventually bring the show up north, to Belfast’s Odyssey Arena. There were more signs now. More singing. More people. It was bedlam – and it was brilliant.
Because darts has always occupied an interesting space in the public consciousness; it is for the people at large as much as the purist, a happy halfway house between serious sport and a great night out.
Plastic glasses were the order of the day inside the Odyssey, and could be purchased in carriers of six - per hand - at least half of which was lost on the way back to the table.
We weren’t in Kansas any more, Toto.
The toilets, at least the couple of times I went, were a throwback. The smoking ban didn’t seem to apply in this safe space, and either did personal hygiene - men of all shapes and sizes trudging through, some even rolling around in, what can only be described as a river of urine.
I half expected to see Barney backstroking by on the way out.
Generations passed and new contenders emerged as darts continued to soar in appeal – but the arrival of Luke Littler onto the world scene weeks before the end of 2023 was an early Christmas gift to the game.
Like fellow teenage sensation Michael Murphy when he made his senior Donegal debut, Littler arrived fully formed. The red tops loved him because he liked kebabs and cans of Fanta. Still 16, he looked old enough to be his own da.
Yet, with a set of arrows in his hand, the boy was touched by genius.
‘The Nuke’ backed up that astonishing run to the World Championship final by winning the Premier League at the first attempt, World Championship at his second. That is not normal; he, in a sporting context, is not normal.
And so 8,500 hardy souls braved the bracing Belfast cold on Thursday night for a glimpse of the game’s new king… and for the ring walks. And the beer in plastic pints glasses. And the doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo, oi oi oi oi.
In poured Beetlejuice, jockeys, bananas, Superman, seagulls, Jokers, Batmen, traffic cones, Minions, 118 guys (still?), traffic cones, mariachi bands, Mario, Luigi and a trio of George Bests. The cosplay orgy was well and truly under way.
Colin Murray, dressed as himself, bagged a prime spot at the top of the fence to wish Stephen Bunting all the best before his defeat to Rob Cross. Wayne Mardle made a welcome return to the Sky commentary box, following the sad passing of wife Donna in December.
And then, by about 8.30pm, it was Littler time. Luckily he had set the alarm - the Warrington wizard having earned himself a ticking off from Michael van Gerwen for sleeping in and arriving 45 minutes late for Wednesday’s press event at the Titanic building.
“They need to stop treating him like a baby. He’s not a baby any more, he’s 18 years old now,” Van Gerwen said, the ‘eh?’ at the end of each sentence enough to inspire immediate Erik ten Hag PTSD among Manchester United fans.
“It happens. He has to learn. You have to learn the hard way. It’s a professional sport so you have to be responsible for your actions. Simple as that.
“If he turns up late for an interview, I don’t mind. But seven other people are waiting for him. That’s not very nice, is it?”
Nice or not, Littler was wide awake now - firing off a 180 to get his clash with the Dutchman under way.
Thunk, thunk, thunk, the pair went at to war at lightning pace, Van Gerwen clearly pumped and out to prove a point after losing to Littler at the Ally Pally five weeks ago.
Yet it was the 18-year-old’s ‘cheat code’ – double 10 – that was threatening to prove his rival’s undoing, first passing up three chances to clinch the fifth leg before the opportunity to close the quarter-final out at 5-4 went awry.
Van Gerwen’s head could have dropped, but instead he started with a 180 and didn’t look back – missing bull for a 124 checkout, allowing Littler back in temporarily, only to close the show in style.
A few boos started as the three-time world champion lined up that last double eight, until Littler wagged his finger at the crowd, imploring them to stop. The pair embraced after delivering the game of the night, the previous day’s spat already part of their past as the roadshow rolls on to Glasgow next week after Luke Humphries finished top of the pile on week one.
Disappointment is only ever temporary at the darts – for players and public alike - the mood apparently incapable of being jolted downwards for too long. Because, even when the game’s brightest star has made an early exit, the party is always in full flow.
